I Need a Tutor
by E. M. Zeray
Summary: TA!Blaine, student!Kurt. Life is tough at McKinley for the only openly gay kid at school, especially when he can't stop staring at the ridiculously attractive French TA...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this was a prompt I got on Tumblr (TA!Blaine at McKinley) and I decided to give it a go. This is dedicated to my dear FF friend Cap'NCupcake—seriously, go read her shit. She's awesome. And she said she liked the idea of a TA/student relationship that I had in one of my other stories and so… I made it Klaine for her! :D**

**R&R, lovelies!**

His name was Blaine. God, but that was a sexy name. It reeked of stuck up, snobby parentage but he seemed… Well, quite frankly, he seemed perfect. He was nice and polite and funny and always graded tests with smiley faces. He didn't seem like he was his age—a distinguished 22. If Kurt hadn't known any better, he would've sworn the man was only a year or two older than him. Unfortunately, he did know better. And Blaine was off limits.

-0-

"Hey, fairy!" was the first thing he heard that morning before the red slushie hit his face. After he got over the initial shock, he finished opening his locker and plucked out his emergency clothes, storming down the hallway to the girl's bathroom.

This was getting ridiculous. Why didn't the school just stop selling slushies?

Angry at his ruined clothes and red-stained collarbone, Kurt stormed into first period French and forgot to stop at Blaine's desk to flirt casually. Great, his day was starting off perfectly.

On the first day of class, Madame Henri had introduced the man in the back organizing papers, said he was observing her class for a semester so he could get credit for a teaching credential. Kurt hadn't even turned around to look until she'd called him "Monsieur Anderson," and he'd said, in his desperately sexy voice, "You call me Blaine, though—whatever." That was the first time he'd really seen him.

He had curly black hair and was dressed in grey jeans and a sweater vest with a white button down underneath. Kurt would have considered the outfit cliché and boring but… This guy really made it work.

Today, he was sporting a button-down and tie with suspenders_. Suspenders_. Kurt had to force himself to listen to anything Madame Henri was saying all period.

"—Monsieur Anderson will hand your last tests back to you on your way out the door. _Au revoir_."

Every person practically shot out of their seats to get to the door. Kurt, however, lazily began packing his things at the slim chance he might actually get to share more than two words with the man. He knew that he shouldn't be having these feelings—after all he wasn't totally sure that this guy was even gay, the age difference hardly mattered to him anymore—but he just couldn't help it. The French TA seemed too good to be true.

"Great job, Kurt." Blaine's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Best grade in the class."

Kurt took the test and smiled at it softly. "Thanks."

"Did you dye your hair or something?"

"What?"

"It's pink-ish in front."

Kurt looked up at him, trying to figure out what he meant. How would his hair be—oh. The slushie. "Uh, yeah—my friend Mercedes and I got that semi-permanent stuff at the street fair yesterday. Guess it didn't come out in the shower. It used to be red."

The TA smiled. "I would've liked to see that."

Kurt's cheeks flushed.

"See you tomorrow, Kurt."

-0-

The whole week passed too slowly. There was homework and glee club and worrying about sorting out the multitude of teenage feelings he was having, not to mention the reinstatement of his morning Dumpster tosses. Those had ruined more pairs of skinny jeans than he cared to think about and he didn't particularly enjoy walking into French class smelling like whatever had been served in the cafeteria the day before.

Friday morning, Kurt was overjoyed. He was going over to Mercedes' house that night for movies and ice cream and makeovers. Nothing could touch him. He was having such a good morning that he was going to walk straight into French and just flirt his ass off—

"Hey, homo—just in time for your trip into the Dumpster."

Kurt glared at the bully, a jock named Azimio, but just kept walking. He didn't have to do this. He didn't have to just lie down and take it.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Kurt sped up, refusing to look behind him. Just keep walking, just keep walking…

By the time he made it into the building and into his French classroom, he'd lost them, but that didn't mean they weren't going to try to get him back.

"Kurt?"

The countertenor froze in the doorway, looking at the voice. He smiled, blushing. "Uh, hi, Blaine."

"Is something wrong?"

Kurt opened his mouth to respond when the door opened behind him and something large hit his back. "Hummel," Azimio said lowly.

Blaine stood from the teacher's desk, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Can I help you boys?"

The jock looked up as Kurt held his breath. Azimio chuckled. "No thanks—we were just leaving. To be continued, Hummel."

As soon as the door closed behind them, Kurt started breathing again.

"Wanna tell me what that was about, Kurt?"

"Uh…nothing." He put his hand on the door knob, counting in his head for how long it would take for the bullies to get back outside the school, probably to trap Artie or Tina, before he was free to get back into the hall. "I just wanted to ask Madame Henri about verb conjugations in comparison with prefixes and origin of word but since she's not here—"

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"You can trust me. If you need to…talk or…"

"Thanks, really," he said hurriedly. "I, uh…I have to get to my locker. See you soon."

-0-

Mercedes was in the middle of getting an avocado face mask when she asked, "You're not still crushing on frankenteen, are you?"

Kurt sighed. "I thought we agreed to never talk about that."

"Sorry. But…you're not, are you?"

"I… I don't think so. I mean, yeah he's attractive, but now that our parents are dating it's just really weird. He's hardly the object of any late-night fantasies."

"You have late night fantasies?" Mercedes laughed. "What about?"

"I'm a guy, 'Cedes—it's kind of out of my control."

"Just one example." Mercedes opened an eye and Kurt poked her cheek with his green-smeared fingers until it closed again. "Come on! Pretty please? I've never been inside of a guy's head before."

Kurt sighed. "I never really know what's happening. It just…it feels good, y'know? And the guy is always just faceless."

"Well that's kind of boring."

"Yeah well, you're talking to the uber-virgin."

"Okay, so if you're not crushing on Finn, who are you crushing on?"

Kurt's cheeks turned a bright red which was pretty ridiculous, considering that he'd just talked about his wet dreams and hadn't blinked. "You don't know him."

"Oh! There _is_ someone!"

"Stay still," he chastised when she swayed happily.

"Does he go to McKinley?"

"No." _Not exactly_, he finished in his head.

"Well where does he go?"

Kurt grabbed the towel on the ground next to him to wipe off his hands. "You're done, 'Cedes."

"You're not getting away from the question that easily, Kurt."

"He's not available."

"Aw, boyfriend?"

Kurt shrugged, helping her up. "He's just… He's a few years older than me."

She slapped his shoulder. "You're crushing on a college student? Where did you meet him? Tell me everything! What's he look like? Is he at OSU?"

"Mercedes, honestly…"

"You tell me right now, Kurt Hummel or I will destroy your Vogue collection."

"He's not even necessarily gay!"

She pulled a face that suggested she was still suspicious. "Fine," she said. "But you will tell me eventually. And the second he asks you out, you call."

-0-

Blaine Anderson was 22 years old. He'd had his fair share of boyfriends—two in high school and a handful over the past few years—but he had pretty much given up on finding one in Lima. This city was identical to the place he'd grown up with the homophobes and the bullies and… Well, he wasn't planning on sticking around forever at least. It was the epitome of a mistake to even take notice in the fact that Kurt Hummel—a _student_, a _17 year old_ student—was, to be frank, very attractive.

There was no way in hell he was going to do anything about this little crush.

Kurt wasn't exactly making it easy on him, though. They would have flirtatious conversations before and after class and if they saw each other in the hall. One time, they spoke in French. Was there anything sexier? And the outfits. He paraded around school wearing designer clothes and being generally fabulous and it was just driving him insane. But Blaine wasn't a teenager anymore. He could and would control himself.

"Good morning, Blaine—did you have a good weekend?"

Blaine looked up from grading papers and couldn't help the smile that bloomed over his face. "Good morning, Kurt. Yeah, I did. What about you?"

"Pretty good." The boy bit his lip and Blaine tore his eyes away from his mouth. "Do anything interesting?"

"Drinks with the guys," Blaine laughed. "Normal weekend stuff."

The final get-in-your-seat-or-go-to-the-office bell rang and Kurt smiled softly before walking to the back of the class.

Shit. This…could not continue. He could not let himself have these feelings, these thoughts, these desires towards a student. He would push it away and let it go, stop flirting, stop staring. A complete and utter shut down.

He glanced at Kurt. The boy's pen was sitting in the corner of his mouth, between his lips, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the white board.

Yeah. This plan would go swimmingly.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter is 'Never Been Kissed'! (The rating is T for now, but it might go up later…)**

**Love always,**

**E. M. Zeray**


	2. Chapter 2

It was kind of ridiculous how crazy Kurt's life had gotten, what with the fact that he'd been getting slammed into lockers on a daily basis and getting called every name in the book, not to mention the fact that he couldn't get anyone to listen to him in glee club and he felt like his head was going to explode from all of the feelings he was having. Still, there was no excuse for why, on his next French quiz, he got a—

"A 'D'?" he whispered to himself. "But…"

"I triple checked it," Blaine promised. "Do you just not understand the material?"

"No, I… I got everything on my homework." He frowned. "I think I was just distracted when we took it."

"What are your study habits like?"

"Practically nonexistent. Homework is my studying. For French at least."

"Sometimes you need something more."

"But I'm practically fluent! I watch foreign movies, I could _sing_ in French."

"Knowing the language doesn't necessarily transfer into understanding the concepts." Blaine cleared his throat slightly. He couldn't stop himself. "I could tutor you."

Kurt looked up from his quiz, an eyebrow arching. "Really?"

"Yeah. Your first essay of the year is being assigned tomorrow—I could help you out. If you wanted. Not that I don't think you're smart enough," he added hurriedly. "Because you are. But sometimes it's nice to have a little help. The quiz won't hurt your grade too much."

"Yeah." Kurt smiled. "Yeah. I think I could use a tutor."

_What the hell are you doing?_ Blaine screamed at himself. _Stop it! Say you actually can't, say you could get a senior or Madame Henri to help, say—_

"So should we meet tomorrow then?" Kurt continued. "I have glee club after school so maybe around four?"

"Sure." _Shit, no!_ "In here?"

Kurt grinned. "See you then."

-0-

Kurt was grinning as he walked out of sixth period the next afternoon. A study date with Blaine. The thought sent his toes curling. Maybe they would sit so close to each other that their knees would touch. Blaine wouldn't move away and then their hands would reach for a piece of paper at the same time and stay touching. They would look at each other. Blaine would lean in and—

Kurt was literally knocked out of his daydream when he was sent flying into the wall of lockers.

A boy in a letterman jacket named Karofsky sneered at him. "Watch where you're walking, lady."

Kurt stayed where he was for a moment, just staring after him. His back ached. His head was throbbing. He felt close to tears. Why did this just keep happening?

"Kurt?" a soft female voice asked.

"'M fine," he said quickly, fixing invisible wrinkles on his clothes.

"But—"

"I'm fine, Tina." He touched the gothic girl's arm. "Let's get to glee club."

Tina nodded, but they had barely taken a step before two more jocks turned the corner, Big Gulp cups in hand. Tina swore, turning and running down the hall as fast as she could. Kurt's face pulled up into an angry expression as they got closer. He took a few steps backwards before breaking into a run.

"You can run, Hummel—but you can't hide."

And there it was: his high school life all summed up.

-0-

When Kurt got to Madame Henri's classroom at 4:06, he was fuming. He'd had to get changed into an outfit not nearly as cute as the one he'd come to school in and yes, maybe that had been to impress Blaine, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered what that his hair was un-styled and the messy clothes in his locker were sticky and sure to be ruined.

Blaine was sitting behind the teacher's desk, glasses on, leaning over a pile of papers. He looked up, smiling, but it fell off his face quickly when he saw Kurt's expression. "What's wrong?"

"Can we go somewhere?" he asked, his voice breathy and high-pitched, like he was about to cry. "Anywhere?"

"What?"

"Can we go? Just…get out of here? Coffee or something?"

Blaine was about to say no and ask what the problem was, but when Kurt sniffed and looked away, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

-0-

"Can I ask you a question?" Kurt asked. His eyes were locked firmly on his cup of coffee sitting atop Blaine's desk before they met the older man's, waiting for an answer.

Blaine nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Are you…gay?"

He smirked. "Yeah." When he saw Kurt look down, his eyes watering, he leaned forward across the desk. "I take it you're having some trouble here."

"I'm the only openly gay kid in school, y'know. And this _Neanderthal_"—he spat the word—"is making my life a living hell… And nobody seems to notice."

"Kurt," Blaine said evenly, "I… Well, the way I see it, you have two options. I don't know what your family's financial situation is like, but there are great private schools in Ohio—ones that don't tolerate any kind of bullying or hatred. But…" Kurt looked up at him. "But you can refuse to be the victim. Call him out! Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt. And you have a chance right now to teach him." His eyes went to his hands for barely a second as they moved his cup around in its cardboard slip. "I ran, Kurt. The faculty at my first high school basically just told me that my life was going to miserable and there was nothing they could do about it. The bullying got to be too much for me and…I ran."

Kurt bit his lip. "I'm not strong enough to fight back."

"I doubt that."

"You don't know me."

"Kurt, you're in glee club, right? So," Blaine continued without waiting for an answer, "you're confident, at least. From what people have told me, you were on the football team and the Cheerios last year. Not to mention what happened with your dad…" He reached for Kurt's hand, laying his own over it lightly. "You're really courageous, Kurt. And you didn't look too bad in that Cheerios photo in last year's Thunderclap."

Kurt laughed, taking another sip of his coffee. Their hands fell apart. "Wait," he said, grinning. "Are you flirting with me?"

Blaine cleared his throat. "Of course not," he muttered, but his smile said otherwise. "Anyway, the point is that these guys aren't going to get away with it forever and you have the courage needed to fight back. Use it."

"I guess."

"Kurt."

"Mm?"

"Do you want to maybe get contact info or something? So you can call me if you need something and we can organize times to meet up for studying…"

"Aw, Blaine—if you want my number all you have to do is ask," Kurt teased.

"Shut up."

-0-

Was it really selfish of him to just want, more than anything else, to kiss him? One simple kiss? Maybe Kurt could be leaning over the paper, writing notes in the margins and Blaine could just capture his lips the second he looked up again? Maybe they could kiss for hours and hours and hours and—

The bell brought him out of his daydream. From behind his desk, Blaine cleared his throat, and shuffled papers randomly until a familiar pair of boots in his line of sight caught his attention.

He looked up at Kurt, smiling. "Hi."

"I just wanted to say thank you." Kurt's hands twisted around the strap of his bag. "So… Thank you."

"Anytime." Kurt was about to leave when Blaine added, "I like your hair today, by the way."

And if that couldn't make Kurt's day better, he didn't know what could. He was proved wrong when he got a text during glee club that read, "Courage. -Blaine."

But it didn't last long. Nothing ever did, he realized as the phone flew out of his hand and he was shoved against the lockers. As Karofsky walked down the hall towards the locker room, Kurt caught his breath. Something built inside of him. Maybe it was the tipping point after all of the pushing and shoving and name-calling and slushies, after everything that had been happening, after he was ignored in glee club, after his whole life seemed to just be falling down around him—

"Hey!" His legs seemed to know what he was doing better than he did because he was suddenly running down the hall after the bully and following him into the locker room. "I am _talking _to you!"

"Girl's locker room is next door," Karofsky said, shoveling things out of his locker.

"_What_ is your problem? _What_ are you so afraid of?"

"Besides you peaking in here to get a look at my junk?" The boy in the letterman jacket faced him now, his face threatening.

"Oh, right, every straight guy's nightmare—that us gays are out to molest and convert you. Well guess what, ham hock—you're not my type!"

"That right?"

"Yeah." He couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't stop himself. "I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are going to be bald by the time they're thirty!"

He turned more fully, getting in Kurt's face. "Don't push me, Hummel."

Kurt's eyes flickered down, noticing the bully's raised fist. "You gonna hit me? Hit me, because it's not going to change who I am."

"Don't_ push_ me!"

He was on a roll, face flushed, all of the anger and frustration coming out in all of the words he'd never gotten to say until now. "You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you!"

"Then get out of my face!" he shouted, slamming his locker shut.

"You're just a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

Kurt didn't have words for what happened next. One second they were staring at each other and then Karofsky had his hands on Kurt's face and was pulling him in for a kiss.

No.

Just… No. This couldn't be happening. His first kiss—not Karofsky. Anyone but the guy that had made his life a living hell.

The jock pulled back, looking at him, breathing heavily. Kurt was frozen in shock, hand up at his mouth. Then, when the bigger boy leaned in again, Kurt shoved him back.

Karofsky looked like he was going to say something, anything, but he simply punched the locker wall and stormed out.

Kurt's hands shook as he dialed.

-0-

"Well he's not coming out any time soon," Blaine muttered as they watched Karofsky storm off down the stairs. He sat down next to Kurt. "Why are you so upset? I thought this was what you wanted." _Another gay guy at your school_, Blaine's brain finished for him. _One your age._

Kurt wanted to say that he didn't know, that everything was just too much. But he knew that that wasn't the truth. It was the fact that something he'd dreamt about forever—his first real kiss—was stolen. The first chance he got to kiss a boy, to see what it was like, was ripped away and ruined, torn up and stomped on by some closeted bully. "Because until yesterday, I'd never been kissed. At least…not when it counted."

Blaine wanted to grab his hand, to wrap his arm around his waist and hold him, dot kisses onto every inch of his face and promise him that no one would ever touch him again. But, besides obvious reasons, it just didn't seem appropriate at the time to do anything but pat him shoulder and buy him lunch.

All of it got Blaine thinking back to all of his kisses, though. His first was ridiculously short and silly during his freshman year of high school with this guy he'd met at a party. The boy was taller than him—everybody was—and they had simply been talking before he'd leaned in and given him a tiny peck.

That was the kind of first kiss Kurt deserved. No, Kurt deserved even better than that. More than anything, Blaine wished he had been brave enough to kiss Kurt first so that his first kiss could be from someone that cared about him… But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if he would've gotten the same reaction from him that Karofsky had gotten. Maybe Kurt would've been horrified, feel victimized and used if he tried anything. And their friendship would be ruined.

So Blaine made up his mind.

_For now, Kurt Hummel_, he thought to himself as he watched Kurt pick at his salad, _I'll be your friend. I'll blow your mind with my amazing friend skills. And maybe I'll force myself to get over you and maybe I won't. But one day, I'm going to kiss you. One day…_

**A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying!**

**Much love,**

**E. M. Zeray**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Say hello to the meddlesome OC in this chapter and tell me what you guys think of him! I'm also planning another OC to get Kurt a little jealous;)**

This really kinda sucked, having to be Kurt's secret friend. Other students would talk to him about his weekend and stuff like that, but Kurt texted him until all hours of the morning, asked him about fashion—they even spent more than an hour talking about Patti Lu Pone's new book. But that was understandable. It was a masterpiece after all.

The whole "secret" part of it was what made him feel guilty.

Sighing to himself as he flipped through the new Vogue, he thought about the things they talked about. What _didn't_ they talk about? It kind of felt like they had eased out of the awkward flirting stage and into, "Hey, let's hang out sometime as friends."

But they never did. They never saw each other outside of the school building unless it was to pick up coffee from the Lima Bean—and even then they didn't actually stay long.

The guilt that he didn't quite understand nagged at Blaine. He just wanted to be there for the kid. No one had been there for him. He had meant that promise he'd made to himself—he was going to be an amazing friend and then, eventually, maybe years and years in the future, he was going to kiss Kurt. Not for awhile though. The time had to be right.

So friend it was. And he was happy with that, he really was.

For the most part.

-0-

"So am I still coming by after school so you can look over the first paragraph of my essay?"

Blaine looked up. He had barely even heard the bell ring, signaling the end of the first period of the day. But sure enough, the classroom was emptying and Kurt was standing in front of him, clutching his bag casually and smiling down at Blaine. "Uh, sure."

Kurt's eyes dipped down Blaine's desk for barely a second. "And maybe you can look over my homework too. Y'know, so that I don't fail the pop quiz for tomorrow you're writing right now."

The TA cleared his throat awkwardly, shoving the paper into a random folder next to him. "You saw nothing."

"Right. Anyway, are you busy on Saturday?" One of Blaine's eyebrows shot up and Kurt rolled his eyes. "The glee club is competing at sectionals. It's kind of pointless because I won't have a solo and I'm the most talented person in the school—"

"I don't doubt it."

"—not to mention the club," Kurt continued, appearing to not have heard Blaine at all. A faint blush argued otherwise. "But it should be fun anyway."

"I would love to."

"Really?"

Blaine nodded. "Of course. What?" he said lightly, laughing. "You think I sit at home and grade papers all weekend? I occasionally exit the man cave."

"'Man cave'?"

"I have no regrets." He winked. "Later, Kurt."

"Bye, Blaine."

Blaine could still hear his tinkling laughter after the door closed behind him.

-0-

"It's not that I don't think Santana is talented, it's just that I think I could do 'Valerie' so much more justice—or even something more appropriately suited for the competition! I mean what could be better than something from Broadway? You agree with me don't you? I mean, she has an…_okay_ voice if you listen to it a certain way—"

"Rachel," Kurt interrupted, rubbing his temples. "Just. Shut. Up."

The girl in the black and white dress sighed, leaning back in her chair in the auditorium. "I'm sorry you didn't get a solo, Kurt."

Well. _That_ was unexpected.

"You're my only real competition. You know it, I know it; everybody knows it. And I know that you threw that Defying Gravity competition last year. Please—I've heard you hit a High F. It's not fair. If I couldn't get a solo, why not you? Stupid Barbie and Ken and… And Satan." She huffed, blowing hair away from her face. "Sometimes I really hate Mr. Schue."

Kurt had to pause a moment to process. Finally, he placed a hand on her crossed arms. "Thank you."

She smiled softly. "It's the truth."

"Well," Kurt said, looking back up front where the stage crew was getting things set up, "we still might win. The Hipsters can't possibly be able to carry a tune and the Warblers will probably not be as choreographically talented as Mike and Brittany, so we have a fair shot."

"Please, Kurt. A fair shot? They're _a capella_. We're screwed."

"I wouldn't be so sure… Have a little faith, Berry."

Rachel went on to ramble on about something else as Kurt scanned the audience for Blaine. When he still hadn't found him by the time the lights dimmed and the Hipsters were introduced, he took a calming breath. Just because he didn't see him didn't mean that he wasn't there. Maybe he was in the lobby, or farther behind him, or…

_Ugh, that's an awful song._

He still clapped politely as the elderly people shuffled off stage. He was going to turn around to search for Blaine again, but then Rachel said, "Come on—let's go get hydrated before we go on."

Out by the concession stand, they slid into seats and simply watched as people walked by. Rachel got them water and they whispered about women's dresses as they passed. Then, Kurt nearly choked on his sip of water when he saw a boy in a blue and red blazer walking over. Wow, but wasn't that a new layer of attractiveness he'd never seen in Ohio.

"Excuse me," the boy said, leaning over the counter to order, "can I get three water bottles please? Thank you."

Rachel glanced over at him. She was smirking when she turned back to Kurt. "Cute."

He blushed.

"Oh, hey, you guys must be with New Directions!" _Shit._ Kurt looked up again. The boy was standing right next to Rachel now. "I'm a Warbler—from Dalton Academy. We're going on next. The name's Drew. Drew Maddox."

They both shook hands with him. "I'm Rachel, this is Kurt."

"Nice to meet you both." He grabbed the water bottles as they came to the counter, thanking the man again. "Good luck to you guys." He paused a moment and threw a wink to Kurt. "I hope I'll see you again after we win."

Rachel scoffed, watching him walk away. "How cocky is th—Kurt?"

The countertenor broke his gaze from the retreating figure of the Dalton boy and moved his teeth off of his bottom lip. "What?"

"If you fall for the enemy—"

"There is no falling!" he said quickly. "He's cute. But you remember. Thanks to blabber mouth Mercedes," he added spitefully. "I'm interested in someone else."

"Ah, yes. The college boy. How's that going for you?"

"Well—" The lights flashed and Kurt was caught between annoyance—because Rachel had never been this nice to him before and he kind of wanted to have someone to talk to about his feelings for Blaine—and relief—because he didn't know what he could say about Blaine without giving it away. "Come on. Let's get back inside."

-0-

Kurt was still trying to shake the performance from his head as he left the stage. He couldn't focus on that. He'd watched the Warblers perform and they had been fantastic but then they'd gone up there and well… The crowd had loved Quinn and Sam and even Kurt had to admit: Santana's voice was the kind that sent chills down your spine. It was amazing. And Brittany and Mike had danced up a storm—the audience had been on their feet, cheering. They'd done amazingly. Nothing could ruin his high! Nothing, nothing, nothing—

"Hey."

Kurt spun, facing the voice. His cheeks lit up pink again.

"Great job."

"Oh, uh, you too." Kurt wrung his hands together. "It's Drew, right?"

The boy in the Dalton blazer nodded. "Yup. Kurt, yeah?"

"Uh huh."

Drew grinned. "So, I wanted to ask you this now before the results were announced just in case that swayed your answer."

"Ask me what?"

"I'd like to call you sometime. If that's alright with you. Maybe we could get dinner or something? Lima isn't that far from Westerville…" He held out his phone. "Wanna put your number in?"

Kurt had to take a moment. This guy was…really, really cute. He was dirty blonde hair and green eyes with a tint of golden yellow and he was maybe a half of an inch taller than Kurt. Plus, he had been a soloist and Kurt had never heard "Hey, Soul Sister" done so well. Talent was attractive. And it wasn't like his romantic life had been anything but nonexistent lately. He and Blaine had turned into friends. But… Well, quite frankly, he still wanted to know what kissing a boy felt like when it wasn't being forced.

"Kurt?"

"Why?" he said suddenly, the word not passing through his mental filter.

Drew shrugged. "You're cute. No offense to my classmates, but they can get kind of boring. I wanna see if maybe you're more interesting."

"And if I'm not?"

"Well, you've still got your good looks." He waited a moment and Kurt glanced from the phone, to him, and back again. "One little date. If nothing happens, no spark—cool, we tried. So?" There was a tense moment of background shuffling and a distant whine from a microphone before Drew nodded happily when Kurt took the phone and began punching keys.

"There."

Drew laughed as he took his phone back. "Well thank you very much, Kurt Hummel," he said, eyeing the number on his screen. "I'll call you."

-0-

"Hey, congrats," Blaine said as he slid up next to Kurt in the lobby, nudging his shoulder.

"Blaine!" Kurt grinned hugely and looked for a second like he was about to hug him, but just nudged him back. "Thanks. But we didn't win. We tied."

"You guys did amazingly. It reminds me of my show choir days in high school." At Kurt's shocked look, Blaine nodded. "Yup. Lead soloist. Team captain. I was pretty cool. But, hey! You're going to regionals! That'll be awesome!"

"Yeah, I guess."

Blaine smiled contently. "Alright, well, I better get going. Your friends are waiting for you."

"Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Oh! Before I forget—I got tickets to see RENT at the community theatre next Saturday. You in?"

Kurt had to stop himself from saying that they'd never hung out in public before. Instead, he simply nodded. "Definitely."

"I know it's different from what we normally do, but I figured we could get out of the classroom. And you said how much you liked the movie, so…"

"It's a great idea. I can't wait."

Blaine licked his lips, his smile dropping. "It's not a… It's not a date. Just. Two friends. Seeing a show."

"Right. Exactly." Why did something in his chest give a cry of protest when he said that? "Saturday."

"Saturday."

**A/N: Reviews are always loved just like you guys are;)**

**Forever yours,**

**E. M. Zeray**


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt missed Blaine.

They didn't text on Sunday—Kurt was busy with his family.

They didn't see each other after school on Monday—Blaine was getting things organized for Madame Henri late into the evening.

On Tuesday, Kurt spent time after glee club with Mercedes and Rachel, talking about the things that were coming up and family plans.

Blaine had plans with friends from OSU on Wednesday.

It was Thursday, right as he was walking into glee club, when Kurt got the text.

_Hey, it's Drew._

Kurt sighed internally as he automatically saved the number to his phone. He'd wanted it to be Blaine so badly… It'd been forever since they'd talked outside of, Hello, good morning, how are you today?

_Hi. What's up?_

_I was just thinking and I decided that before I ask you out properly, we should get to know one another. So favorite color, movie, book, musical, and school subject. Go._

Kurt smirked to himself. Alright, fine…

_Blue, at the moment it's Moulin Rouge, Patti LuPone: A Memoir, Wicked, and French._

_Red, Grease, Harry Potter, Spring Awakening, and Chemistry. You speak French? That's sexy._

_Oui._

_How's your day going?_

Kurt gnawed on his lip. Mercedes dropped into the seat next to him, smiling at him warmly. He returned the smile and then looked back at his phone.

_It's alright. I'm waiting for glee club rehearsal to start._

_Ah, yes. You must prepare so that you can have even the slightest chance of beating us at Regionals._

Kurt rolled his eyes.

_We will kick the Warblers' collective butts._

_Well we'll just have to see about that. So I was thinking Saturday night—I'll pick you up._

_Busy._

_Sunday._

_We'll see._

_It's not a no. I'm counting that as a win. I'll talk to you later, Kurt. Enjoy harmonizing;)_

-0-

"Kurt."

The countertenor stopped in the doorway of the French classroom, smiling slightly at Blaine. "Hi."

"What have you been up to?"

"Oh, this and that. Glee club, homework, friends…"

Blaine nodded. "I, uh, I'm sorry—"

"For what?"

"Well, we haven't talked in awhile and I should've been more available in case you needed—"

"Thanks. But I'm really okay."

"Glad to hear it." He glanced at Madame Henri, who was sitting on the other side of the classroom at her desk, but she appeared to be sipping her coffee and checking email as she waited for students to arrive, not paying them any attention. "I'm excited for Saturday."

Kurt grinned. "Me too."

"And come by after glee club today, yeah? We can work on your essay."

"See you then."

-0-

The rest of the week was a constant flurry of texts and phone calls and essay/homework revisions. And yes, Kurt admitted, he purposefully got some answers on his homework wrong sometimes so that Blaine would reach across him and put a hand on his lower back as he pointed out the correct word or phrasing. But he wasn't the only one who pulled tricks.

Blaine invited him to hang out in the classroom with him at lunch for the rest of the week and all they talked about was musicals and movies and pop culture and fashion and then, when the bell rang, Blaine would always—always, always, _always!_—squeeze Kurt's hand as he left and hold the classroom door open for him.

Yes, it was silly. Yes, it was flirty. Yes, it was awesome. And yes, _good god, yes_—it was infuriating.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Kurt was pissed. And so he made up his mind. He was done sitting on the sidelines while his own life got away from him. Maybe he couldn't quite face down Karofsky yet, but he could sure as hell face down Blaine. He'd been talking to Drew a lot more as well and now, he was going to make a decision. If Blaine didn't do anything, show any interest by the time Saturday night was over, he was going to plan that date with Drew.

The night began okay. Kurt drove to McKinley to drop off his car and Blaine was waiting in the lot. The drive there was comfortable—they chatted casually and Blaine even grabbed his hand to lead him into the theater. Kurt had a moment where he almost couldn't move and just stared down at their hands as he followed the TA inside. The only thing his brain would say was _Wow_. And then: _Holy crap, are my palms sweating?_

The cast was amazing and the show was great, not that Kurt really paid attention to a lot of it. Blaine leaned over to whisper something in his ear once and Kurt thought he was going to die.

He had to make a move. He _had_ to. Kurt was so done with this friendship thing. The Karofsky thing, while scarring and awful and disgusting, was over and Kurt wanted a real kiss now, a real relationship. The trouble with that was the fact that the twenty-two year old sitting next to him, mouthing the words to "Take Me or Leave Me", didn't freakin' realize it.

-0-

An hour and a half later, Blaine pulled up right next to Kurt's car in the McKinley lot, putting his car into park. He glanced at the other boy, licking his lips.

"Thank you," Kurt said. "For tonight." He unbuckled his seat belt and was about to climb out of the car when Blaine's hand rested over his. He faced the TA again.

"Kurt."

"…yes?"

Blaine's eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open and he almost looked sad. "I…"

"Yes?"

"I had fun. Doing this. With you."

_Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Come on, Blaine. Kiss me._

"We should hang out again. Outside of school."

"Yeah. We should."

Blaine reached forward slightly, up to Kurt's face and the brunette's breath caught in his throat.

His heartbeat seemed to say the words as his pulse sped: _kiss-me, kiss-me_, _thump-thump, thump-thump_. But Blaine's hand fell and he looked back at the steering wheel.

"I'll see you on Monday."

"Are you doing this to me on purpose?" Kurt demanded before he could stop himself.

"What?"

Kurt shook his head, getting out of the car. The slamming door was the finality that made Blaine sigh and lean back in his chair. _Shit._

Well.

He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have even tried—

And now this was his punishment. Kurt had noticed_. Of course_ Kurt had noticed! He was being embarrassingly obvious! But it was just so hard to not stare at him and so hard to not want to kiss him… This friendship was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do—and he'd once written a 20 page paper in both Italian and French.

It just wasn't fair. Kurt was too young. He needed to stay away; he needed to not get involved—

"Dammit," he hissed, climbing out of his car.

Kurt had already started the engine, but Blaine went around his own car, yanking at the door handle of Kurt's. "Go away, Blaine!"

But he simply leaned over, yanking the key out of the ignition. "Talk to me. Kurt, I'm your friend and you need to _talk_." He paused a beat. "_Now_."

"You flirt with me, okay!" Kurt nearly shouted. "You flirt with me and wink at me and you take me out on non-dates and you hold my freakin' hand, Blaine! I just don't know what to think!"

"What_ do_ you think?"

"I think that you're really confusing me. I just… I want…" He laughed dryly, looking away. That was enough for Blaine.

"Kurt… You're seventeen—"

"Really? That's your argument?" He scoffed, snatching his keys back. "I'll see you in school."

Blaine didn't move though, holding the door open. "I can't be like this with you, Kurt. You know I can't."

"You could if you wanted to."

"You think…" He swallowed tightly. "You think that's what's stopping me? That I don't want to be with you?" When Kurt's only response was to face front again, Blaine sighed. "Kurt, you need a friend right now. Since you won't tell anyone else about Karofsky, you need me—to talk to, to have someone that…that _understands_. Do _not_ push me out."

"Tell me the truth, Blaine. Am I anything more than just a student you have a friendly connection with? Do you ever see yourself being more than a mentor or a tutor to me? At all?"

"I… I can't…"

Kurt nodded. "Fine."

"Wait," he said quickly, desperate to hold onto something. "Your essay—I could still—"

"Look, right now, I need to just go be upset, okay?"

"Kurt—"

"Let's talk on Monday."

Blaine sighed. That was more than he deserved. "Okay."

And as Kurt drove away, he couldn't help feeling like his mouth and brain had somehow gotten lost in trying to translate his feelings into words.

"I want you," he whispered into the empty night air. "But I don't want to take advantage of you. I want you. But I don't want to get fired. I want you. But I can't."

**A/N: Next chapter: Kurt's working on a project for glee club and he needs to run an idea by someone… But who to run it by exactly? ;)**

**Love,**

**E. M. Zeray**


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt walked into the French classroom right after sixth period on Monday afternoon and turned to face Blaine, who was sitting behind his desk, stapling packets.

"I know the paper's due tomorrow so I did a final edit yesterday and I thought I would ask your opinion on it before turning it in."

Blaine looked up and nodded. "Okay." He watched in silence as Kurt dug it out of his bag, holding it out to him. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. And yourself?"

"Listen—"

"Blaine. I have to get to glee club."

Blaine sighed, taking the essay. "Okay. I'll text you about it tonight, yeah?"

"If by 'it' you mean the paper, sure."

Blaine wanted to be angry. He wanted to feel anything but this…this regret. Because he really did regret this—letting down Kurt, letting down them both, when all they wanted was each other. He began to say something—he wasn't actually sure what he had been planning on saying—but he never got the chance. Kurt left without a goodbye.

Kurt's fists were clenched as he walked. The choir room was down the same hallway, just around a corner, and as he got closer, he had to force himself to not just leave the building. He needed to just…breathe. Just breathe slowly and evenly and relax and—

Kurt frowned, his steps faltering.

"Hi! I was looking for you."

"What, uh…" He continued walking forward until he was right in front of the boy in the Dalton uniform. "What are you doing here?"

"No Warbler rehearsal and I don't have a sixth period so I thought I'd drop by."

"Why?"

"To ask you out to dinner on Friday night."

Kurt smiled softly. Well, this was a mood booster—as long as he didn't think about the fact that he wanted _Blaine_ to be the one asking him out. "Hmm…so ask."

Drew grinned. "Would you like to go out to dinner with me this Friday, Kurt?"

Kurt opened his mouth when—

"Hey, Kurt! You left—oh." Kurt turned, watching Blaine blush a bit and slow his jog into a walk. "Sorry to, uh, interrupt. You left your Chemistry homework inside of your essay—thought you might need that back."

Kurt wanted to punch something. "Oh, right. Of course. Sorry." He took the homework, giving Blaine a look that clearly said_, Please go away now_.

"Hi, I'm Blaine," he said, offering a hand to the Dalton student. Kurt wanted to scream in frustration.

They shook. "Drew."

"You must go to Dalton."

"Yeah—hey, wait. You look really familiar. Have I ever seen you before?"

Blaine smiled kindly, shaking his head. "I don't think so. I was at sectionals, though."

"No, wait! You wouldn't be Blaine Anderson, would you?"

Kurt tore his angry glare away from the TA and looked questioningly at Drew. What was happening?

"I'm Drew Maddox! Christian's younger brother! You were in his year at Dalton, weren't you?"

Blaine's smile fell slightly as he reached back to rub his neck. "Oh, uh, yeah. Wow. You grew up."

"Yup." Drew grinned proudly. "No more geeky kid in me." He looked back at Kurt again. "So, uh—Friday?"

Kurt nodded, his muscles tense. "Sure."

"Awesome. I'll text you." He waved at Blaine as he reached the door. "Nice seeing you again, Blaine! You should drop by Dalton sometime. The Warblers would love to meet one of their most famous soloists!"

When he was gone, Kurt turned to him, crossing his arms. "You went to Dalton?"

"For high school, yeah."

"Who was Christian?"

"Drew's older brother. Well, stepbrother. The Maddox family adopted him because…his dad wasn't the nicest person alive and his mom was dead."

"How'd you know him?"

"Went to school together." Blaine cleared his throat awkwardly. "So what are you doing with him on Friday?"

"Dinner." He looked down at his shoes for a moment, shifting before he looked back up. "Not that it's any of your business," he added.

"Kurt—"

"Was Christian an ex?"

Blaine sighed. "Kurt—"

"Forget it; I have to get to glee club," he muttered, turning slightly, but Blaine grabbed his hand, tugging him back.

"I care so much about you, Kurt. Please don't block me out. If you want to go out with Drew, awesome. I'm happy for you. But don't do it just to spite me. And I'm always here if you want to talk or if you just want to hang out or if you're bored… Don't throw me out of your life because I made a mistake."

Kurt knew he was right. Blaine shouldn't be involved with him…but it didn't change how much he _wanted _them to be involved. He sighed. He was going to have to learn to live with it. If he was being honest, he didn't want Blaine out of his life either. "Fine. I'm sorry."

Blaine squeezed his hand before letting go. "I'll see you tomorrow."

-0-

"How was your date?" Blaine asked, not evening looking up from the essays he'd just collected.

Kurt shrugged. "Fine. Not horrible, not fantastic."

"So you won't be seeing him again?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Hm, well… Like I told you last night, perfect essay. I think Madame Henri will be pleased."

Kurt smiled, but Blaine could tell it was forced. "Thanks."

"Any plans for the holidays?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. What about you?"

"I'll probably end up going to see my parents."

That made Kurt giggle. Blaine's heart swelled at the sound. "Yeah, while you're doing that, I'm sure the guys from glee club will be finding some way to convince me to get drunk on eggnog."

"Stay safe," Blaine said, smirking.

"I'll try my best."

Later that day in glee club, Mr. Schue announced that before the upcoming Winter break, they would be taking auditions for the Winter assembly to showcase talents—other students and clubs were getting involved as well. Band, Orchestra, and the Cheerios had guaranteed spots, just like the glee club did, but only a certain number of students would get solos, plus there were two duet spots.

_Probably Santana with Puck and Finn with Rachel_, Kurt thought bitterly. _Or is he dating Quinn now? It's so hard to keep track…_

"So think long and hard about what songs you want to do and auditions are on Wednesday."

Kurt sighed. Of course, another chance to lose out to everyone else for a solo because the school hated him and Mr. Schuester was worried about him getting bullied.

"Oh, and no rehearsal tomorrow so that you guys can work on your songs at home!"

As he left the classroom, he couldn't help but feel upset. It wasn't fair. He wanted to sing in front of everybody. He wanted to show them how talented he was… But he didn't want the club to be targeted any more than they already were.

"Hey, Kurt, wait up!"

He paused at the doorway of the school as Blaine jogged to catch up with him, grinning.

"Hey—what's up?" he said, when he noticed Kurt's expression.

Kurt shrugged. "Glee club stuff?"

"Wanna talk about it? Maybe over coffee?"

He was about to decline, but… Coffee sounded good. "I'd love to."

Maybe this was the step he needed. It could be taken either way. He could use this opportunity to get back into the friend zone…or he could use it to try to convince Blaine that if the older man actually had any feelings, he should act on them.

-0-

Blaine couldn't believe he was doing this. Was he an idiot? …yes, yes he was. He'd sworn to himself that he wasn't going to flirt anymore. He wasn't going to get Kurt's hopes up, and his own hopes for that matter, when he had forced himself to remember every second of every day that Kurt was a minor. _Minor. Student. 17. Off limits._

Right.

So why was he sitting with him in the choir room after school on a Tuesday afternoon, looking through piano music for Christmas songs? Blaine had also brought a boom box and a few old karaoke CDs of Christmas music he had, just in case.

"Oh, I love this one," Kurt muttered, a hand reaching up to touch the sheet music. On this left, Blaine glanced at him. Wow, but he was gorgeous.

Blaine cleared his throat, setting his fingers on the keys. "_Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?" _he sang._ "In the lane, snow is glistening_." It was slower than the normal beat, but Blaine's voice was rich and smooth and perfect as his fingers danced across the keys. "_A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland_."

Kurt leaned into him, barely enough for Blaine to notice, but he'd been hyperaware of every move Kurt had made since they'd sat down…so he noticed. Hell, yes, he noticed. "I love your voice," Kurt said softly. "You're very talented."

"Thank you."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Schue said that that is a group number. On to the next one!"

"Hmm, what about… _I'm getting nuthin' for Christmas_!" he sang in a high-pitched lisped voice, pouting theatrically.

Kurt laughed, but shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer?" Blaine offered.

"No."

"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas?"

"I don't think so."

"I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus?"

"Try again."

"Frosty the Snowman!" Blaine grinned at him, his eyes wide. Kurt had the momentary thought this guy was seriously a puppy.

Kurt rolled his eyes, standing up to walk around the choir room with measured steps. "There's just no song I can think of that I'd want to sing. I _want_ to sing, I just don't know _what_."

"Well let's look at the CDs, yeah?" Blaine walked over and grabbed Kurt's shoulders, directing him to sit on a riser. He shoved the CDs into Kurt's hands, glaring at him playfully. "Just pick one to try. I'll be walking around, staring at the walls."

Kurt did as he was asked, flipping through the tracks. He glanced up at Blaine when he paused on one. He'd learned that Blaine wasn't totally opposed to all of the flirting that they'd done before… Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to open those gates again.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I got one."

"Awesome!"

"But I'll need your help."

"Go ahead."

Kurt didn't meet his eyes as he put in the CD and set the track number. When the piano music started, his chest tightened but he still didn't look over at Blaine. The TA didn't try to get his attention either.

"_I really can't stay—"_

"_But baby, it's cold outside."_

"_I've got go away—"_

"_But baby, it's cold outside."_

"_This evening has been—"_

"_Been hoping that you'd drop in."_

"—_so very nice."_

"_I'll hold your hands; they're just like ice."_

Eventually, they both got into the music and Kurt grinned as he took Blaine's offered hand. They moved around the room, Blaine following him casually. They sent each other flirty glances and during the part where Blaine sang, "_Mind if I move in closer?"_ he grabbed Kurt's hand and pulled the boy directly up against his chest.

When they got to the last line, which they sang simultaneously, they collapsed down onto two of the chairs on the bottom riser, grinning at each other. For a moment, they just stared. And then Blaine's eyes lifted to the ceiling and he smiled.

"Hm, look at that…" he sighed.

"What?" Kurt followed his gaze and immediately flushed bright red. "Ah. Mistletoe."

"Mistletoe."

There was a beat.

And then they both moved in at the same time and they were kissing. There was nothing but lips and tongue and arms wrapping around each other, holding each other, just Kurt and Blaine, _finding each other_.

Blaine put a hand on his face to ease him back out of the kiss and Kurt pulled back slowly, peaking up at the older man through lowered eyelashes shyly.

"Well," Blaine said.

"Yeah."

"I guess this friendship thing failed again, huh?"

"Yup."

"What a shame."

"An intense shame."

"I'm gonna kiss you again."

"Please."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you're enjoying! Leave a review to let me know;)**

**Love,**

**E. M. Zeray**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This story is officially rated M. Smut is present in this chapter. Turn back now if you have a problem with this.**

Blaine was singing to himself under his breath as he went through the finals the 1st and last period classes had taken that day. Tomorrow was the last of school before Winter break and he'd put off all of the work to be done because he'd been spending so much time with Kurt.

They'd get coffee after school and hang out in the park or sometimes just walk around. There was a very close encounter where they'd been walking out to the school parking lot to head for the Lima Bean sometime last week. Normally they looked around to check before engaging in public displays of affection, but Kurt was looking ridiculously attractive in that sweater and that scarf and his hair—so Blaine pressed him up against the front door of the Navigator, kissing him passionately. They spent a few moments enraptured by each other's touches, the slide of their tongues…and then they heard what Kurt could only describe as the most moment-ruining noise ever. Finn's voice.

Blaine sighed as he thought about what had happened.

They had been enjoying the time they got to spend together—they hadn't been able to have enough time alone together to really be physically aware of each other for more than a few make-out sessions—and Finn just had to come and ruin it all.

"_No, thanks, Puck—I'm gonna get a ride with Kurt. We're both going to the same place anyway."_

_Kurt's eyes went wide as he pushed Blaine away, separating from the kiss._

"_Shit," Blaine hissed. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair until he was pretty sure it didn't look like Kurt had been gripping it like a lifeline a few seconds ago. There was no way to really escape without the Frankenstein of a teenager noticing him, so he simply took a step back and began to talk to Kurt very loudly in French._

"_Hey, Kurt!" Finn said, coming around the front of the car. "Can I get a ride?"_

"_Of course," Kurt said, plastering on a fake smile._

"_Hi!" Finn addressed Blaine. "I'm Finn Hudson—Kurt's brother. Well step brother."_

"_Oh, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Blaine—his French TA."_

"_Cool. So, Kurt—ready to go?"_

_Kurt sent an apologetic look Blaine's way and Blaine smiled softly, whispering, "C'est bien. J'irai faire à demain."_

"_Tomorrow," he agreed_.

Blaine snapped himself out of the memory. That had been the most awkward introduction of his life. He didn't want to meet Kurt's brother like that. But then again, he hadn't really planned on meeting any member of Kurt's family.

When the door of the classroom opened, he immediately knew who it was because of sound of the footsteps.

"It's almost six," Kurt said as he walked towards Madame Henri's desk. "Why are you still here?"

"Why are _you_ still here?"

"I waited in my car for you after glee rehearsal but when you didn't come out… Thought I'd check."

Blaine looked up, smiling. "You waited for me?"

"Don't get a big head. Why are you sitting at the teacher's desk?"

"It's bigger," he muttered, looking back to the tests again. "Comfier chair, too."

Kurt grinned, walking around the corner and sitting, with his legs crossed, right next to the papers. "So—the last final of the semester is tomorrow and then the assembly and then Winter break."

"Yup."

"And we won't see each other for two weeks."

"But we'll call and text and email and—"

"Blaine. Look at me."

He did. "Hello, gorgeous."

"I was thinking that, since we won't be able to see each other for awhile, I could leave you something to remember me by so you don't run off with any attractive guys over break." Before Blaine could ask exactly what he meant, Kurt had straddled him in the chair and was looking down at him with wide eyes, biting his lip.

"Kurt, what are you—?"

"I want this. With you."

"Kurt, we've been dating for less than two weeks—"

Kurt silenced him with a kiss, but Blaine grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back.

"Kurt, really, you're amazing and hot and sexy and all that, but…it's too soon. I want this thing to last for a really long time and I don't want to screw it up by doing this."

"But it wouldn't! Please, Blaine—I can't stop thinking about it. Ever since you pressed me against the car and I could feel every part of you. _Please_."

"I… Kurt…"

Kurt ground down his hips and Blaine could _feel _him, the hardness, the _want_, and Blaine choked back a groan. Before he could stop himself, he'd stood, lifting Kurt with him, and planted the boy back on the desk. He was still between Kurt's legs and now they were kissing—kissing passionately and desperately, a mix of tongue and then teeth when Kurt's pulled on his lower lip. God, where had he learned that?

Blaine released an appreciative hum from the back of his throat as his hands trailed over Kurt's thighs and down past his knees to squeeze his calves softly.

"Blaine," he moaned, arching his hips again. "I can't—_please,_ Blaine."

The TA kissed him harder, wrapping his arms around his waist and then sliding one down to his thigh, pulling it tighter around his hips so that they could begin moving. They were small thrusts, barely lined up together, so it was more the idea of friction than the actual movement that made Kurt grip his shoulders tighter and cry out.

When Blaine got their hips aligned so that they were truly pressed together, their eyes met, Blaine's inquisitive, Kurt's wide and pleading.

"Blaine," was all Kurt had to say before he really gave in.

He barely had enough willpower to glance over Kurt's shoulder at the door to make sure it was closed and the blinds down. He doubted anyone would be left on campus at this time, so late in the afternoon, but he didn't want to take his chances.

Kurt's nails dragging down his cotton-clad back brought his attention back to the red-faced, panting boy that was currently biting his own lip is a dastardly distracting way. The teeth returned to inside the sinful mouth and a moan escaped. Blaine was about to tell him to be quiet, but he just couldn't. His mouth wasn't working. His _brain_ wasn't working.

He buried his face in Kurt's shoulder and held onto him, feeling like a teenager once again, ready to come after five minutes of rutting against a warm body.

Their hips moved in what felt like deep circles, pressing and rolling and everything was an overload of the senses. Blaine's knees ached, his breath was coming fast and heavy, he was sweating on his brow, and he was going to die if Kurt didn't kiss him right this second—

He must have said the last part out loud because the brunette fisted his fingers in Blaine's shirt to pull him closer, if that was even possible with how close they pressed to each other. He lifted his head and slanted their mouths together. The kissing was sloppy and messy, but a distraction from the increasing pressure and fire in his lower belly; a distraction he _needed. Desperately._ He felt _amazing_—Blaine was doing this to him. But at the same time, he was worried. He knew what it felt like when he got close and…this was it. He was a stupid, inexperienced teenager and he was going to come. Soon.

However, he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed about it because Blaine's mouth was doing something really awesome to his neck right now and—wait, when had they stopped kissing? He was about to demand that Blaine kiss him again when the older man gave two hard thrusts before returning to the set rhythm and moved a hand to squeeze Kurt's ass appreciatively.

_Oh._

Oh—_that…_ Yes, that was quiet nice.

"Blaine," he rasped, moving his hands, trying to hold on to something, anything. "I'm going—I'm gonna—"

Blaine pulled his mouth away from the sweet skin of Kurt's neck and dug his fingers into his hips, increasing the pace. He didn't know why, but he really, really wanted to see Kurt come. He wanted to see what he looked like, hear what sounds he made, watch as he came unraveled all because of _him_.

Kurt's hands eventually found Blaine's upper arms and he held on as he hid his eyes in Blaine's shoulder. Within seconds, he was losing the rhythm and just riding out the waves of his high as he came. He had to bite down in order not to scream. Blaine jerked at that, but when he groaned and shuddered, Kurt realized it was a good jerk. He made a mental note. _Biting: it worked_.

The rational side of Blaine's brain was off on vacation at that moment, so he simply tossed his head back and let himself lose it. For the first time since he was sixteen, Blaine Anderson came in his pants.

-0-

"Kurt, I promise—"

"Don't you want to see me?"

Blaine collapsed on his couch, staring up at the ceiling. "_Of course_ I want to see you! But I just got home literally five minutes ago and my apartment's a mess and I'm exhausted and I just need to sleep."

On the other side of the line, up in his bedroom, Kurt bit his lip. "I could come over and just keep you company," he offered. "I'm a great cook! I know, I'll make you dinner and we can watch a movie."

"Kurt, it's New Year's Eve. Your parents—"

"Are out at a party. And the glee party is over here at my place. You'd be doing me a favor. After all, there's alcohol here. Wouldn't want me getting in trouble…"

"Fine," he muttered. He could practically hear Kurt's smile and pictured him jumping slightly in happiness. "But not…not for sex, okay? Just dinner and movie. And you don't have to cook—I'll take care of it."

"Text me your address?"

"Alright. I'll see you soon."

Blaine busied himself for the next fifteen minutes by cleaning up his apartment. It still wasn't perfect by the time there was a knock at the door, but it was close enough.

Surprisingly, he had to take a steadying breath before he could even step towards the entrance of his apartment. Why was he so nervous? It was just another date with another boyfriend.

But it wasn't. It was Kurt. And Kurt was…more.

Blaine looked down. Ugh. He was still wearing the sweatpants and T-shirt he'd changed into when he got home. Well…Kurt was just going to have to live with it.

"Hey, sorry—whoa." Blaine froze, looking the boy up and down. "Holy hell."

"So I assume you like it."

"Is that…a straight jacket?"

Kurt stepped forward, putting two fingers under Blaine's chin to force him to meet his glasz eyes. "I know you said I couldn't come over for sex. And I'm not. I'm coming over to spend time with you. Because I've missed you. But if sex just happens…"

"So you're wearing that and those jeans and you've styled your hair like that on _purpose_? Are you trying to _kill _me?"

Kurt bit his lip, grinning evilly. "No. Devour you is a possibility though."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you've enjoyed! Leave a review!**

**Love always,**

**E. M. Zeray**


	7. Chapter 7

"Kurt?"

"Mm…"

"Wake up, buddy—Carole's made pancakes. Come on. You have to get ready for school—"

Kurt shot up. It was lucky that his dad had such good reflexes or they would have head-butted. Thankfully, Burt Hummel moved out of the way quickly enough and Kurt stared at him. "It's Monday already?"

"Sure is, kiddo. Carole has breakfast all set out. First day back at school. I trust you got all of your homework done?"

"Dad, it's me."

Burt smirked. "Yeah. Okay. Get dressed and come down."

Kurt sighed, kicking the blankets off instead of slipping out them so as not to ruffle his duvet. Sue him. He was tired. His father peered at him curiously and Kurt arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"You went out with Mercedes yesterday, right?"

"Yeah." No, in fact, he had not. That was just what he had said he was going to do. But instead, he had gone to Blaine's. They had hung around on the couch, watching cartoons and just being with each other. And then Kurt had cooked them dinner and they'd done the dishes together. Which then ended with Kurt up on the counter, both of them soapy and wet, laughing through their kisses at how silly this all was when there was a bed right around the corner.

"So why do you have a hickey?"

Kurt's hand flew up to his neck. "Wh-what?"

"Look, kid, I know teenage years are about…finding yourself and stuff, but you don't have to pretend to like girls again—I think you only managed it with Brittany because she's not the sharpest nail in the toolbox—"

"Dad, no—no, no, no, I'm not—it's just…" But he didn't have anything to say.

Burt looked worried, but he simply nodded. "Okay. Listen, just…bring him around to dinner sometime or something? I don't want you sneaking around behind my back. I'd like to meet the kid."

"It was just…a one-time thing. Just this guy I met at sectionals…" Great, more lies. He'd never lied to his father before. "It was stupid. Nothing happened. I'm sorry."

"Fine," his father said, and nodded. "But if you need to talk about…anything like…that stuff… I'm here. Carole gave Finn some condoms—"

"No! Dad!" Kurt held up his hands, stopping his father's words. "No. No need for condoms." He and Blaine weren't having actual sex yet—in fact the thought was threatening and not really something he wanted to even entertain at the moment. "Honestly."

"Alright. But…if you do—"

"Got it, Dad! Thanks! Bye now!"

And Kurt practically shoved him out the door.

-0-

Kurt and Blaine were sitting across from one another at Blaine's desk later that afternoon, coffee cups clutched in front of them, as Kurt relayed the morning's horror story.

"So my dad came in to wake me up this morning—"

"That explains why you were the last one in the door this morning."

"—and he saw _this_." Kurt pulled away his scarf, showing the red and purple mark at the base of his neck. "I didn't even know it was there."

Blaine's eyes went wide. "Well, right about now I could offer a snarky comment about how it was because you were too distracted to notice what I was doing to your neck…but I didn't realize I'd done that either, so…"

"So we're both pretty equally at fault."

The curly-haired man sighed and took off his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Shit, Kurt. What'd you tell him?"

"That it was some guy from sectionals. I promised it would never happen again."

"You told him it was Drew?"

"Oh. Huh. Well, I didn't really think about it. But, yeah, I guess. Just without the name. He tried to give me condoms." Kurt smiled, taking another sip of his coffee. The smile fell away when he noticed that Blaine looked…well, stressed. "Hey." He covered the older man's hand with his. "What's wrong? I promise, I'm not actually interested in Drew, like at all, so—"

"Kurt, I could lose my job. I'm…I'm a cradle-robber."

"I'm 17! I turn 18 this summer! You're hardly destroying my innocence!"

"Except that I am!" he whisper-shouted, pulling his hand back. "When I'm supposed to be focused on watching Madame Henri and doing things for her, I'm watching you and thinking about you. I can't. This is my job. I want to be a teacher one day, Kurt. I have to get a full year of observations. Most people switch to new teachers every few weeks—you wanna know a secret? I was going to do that. I was going to be like everyone else and stay here for two weeks, then maybe an English teacher, then maybe a Chemistry teacher, and then on to the next school. But then I saw _you_ in that classroom and I just…I couldn't make myself leave. And I knew I was going to torture myself by staying because I couldn't have you, but…it was okay because I wanted to get to know you." Blaine dropped his glasses and ran his hands through his hair.

"Blaine—"

"I love you, Kurt," he said evenly, staring at his desk, his hands clenched in his hair with his elbows resting in front of him. "And it scares the shit out of me."

Kurt felt numb. His mouth was open and he knew what he wanted to say…but it just wouldn't come out. Finally, he licked his lips and swallowed. "Blaine," he whispered, reaching for his boyfriend's hands. "I love you too. And I…I'm so sorry—"

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Blaine squeezed his hands. "Nothing at all. It was me. I let myself get jealous of Drew; I let myself sing that song with you; I kissed you."

"Are you…are you saying that you want to break up with me?"

Blaine shook his head immediately, no hesitation. "No—god, no, Kurt. Never. Didn't you just hear me say that I was in love with you? I'm saying that no matter how much I know I should…I couldn't. Because you're worth this. And so we have to be a lot more careful. No more hickeys—"

"At least visible ones."

"—and no more kissing in school parking lots." He fixed Kurt with a glare. "I mean it."

"Fine. I guess."

Blaine nodded and let go of Kurt's hands. "Now, moving on—I have to grade the homework packets from over break but it's getting late and sooner or later the janitor is going to kick us out, so what do you say we call it a night?"

"I don't want to go home," Kurt whined.

"God, you're such a teenager."

The brunette gave a lewd smile. "Yeah, but you know what it's like being a teenage boy." Blaine jerked when he felt Kurt's foot traveling up his leg. "So you're actually very lucky to have me. My sex drive never ends."

Kurt could see Blaine's throat move as he swallowed. "Yeah, well… Shit, Kurt, you can't say things like that to me. Put—put your shoe back on."

"Why don't we go back to your place?"

"That's not such a good idea, Kurt."

"Aw, come on."

Blaine stood, gathering his papers. He pulled his glasses on and glared at Kurt over the top of them. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

Kurt watched as the man—and he really was all man—in front of him packed folders into his bag. "What if I don't want you to be a gentleman? What if I like it better when you're corrupting my innocent youth?"

"Don't even joke, Kurt."

"It's not a joke. I…I'm not ready for all of it, Blaine. But I really like the stuff we do." When Blaine didn't do anything but continue putting his things away, Kurt sighed. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's _nice,_ Blaine. It's amazing being held and being touched and being loved. You never had to come to terms with the fact that you weren't going to be all of those things until maybe past college, if ever." Kurt looked down at his hands. "I'd like to enjoy these things as much as possible now that I have them."

Blaine leaned over his desk, waiting for Kurt to look up. When he did, Blaine said softly, "I understand that, Kurt. And I'm sorry that you ever had to feel like you were never going to get those things. I want to hold you and touch you and love you for as long as you let me, okay?"

Kurt smiled. "Okay."

"Promise me you won't try to convince me to let you spend the night?"

"Pinky promise."

"Alright—let's go."

-0-

Kurt was laughing as he pinned Blaine to the mattress, mouths moving together softly, lazily. They weren't really trying to get anywhere, they were just comfortably kissing, being with each other, enjoying…this.

Blaine chuckled, fighting against the hold the younger boy had on his wrists. "Come on, Kurt," he whispered, biting down on Kurt's bottom lip. "Let go."

"Not if you're going to keep tickling me."

"I promise not to!"

But Kurt simply brought their mouths together again so that there was no more talking.

Blaine eventually managed to get Kurt beneath him and his shirt off and right as things were moving from comfortable and lazy to hot and desperate, Kurt's phone rang.

"Ignore it," Blaine rasped, lips trailing a line down Kurt's throat.

"It could be my dad."

Blaine rolled off of him, staring up at the ceiling. "Fine. But don't expect me to not start without you if you take too long."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt grabbed his phone from his bag on the ground and took it out into the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kurt! It's Drew."

_Shit_. "Oh, right. Hi."

"So, we haven't spoken in awhile. I was wondering if you wanted to go out on Friday."

This could not end well for him. If he told Drew he had a boyfriend, he would get curious. He could somehow find out it was Blaine. If he told Drew he was busy, he would call him out. And if he told Drew he wasn't interested, he'd insist that Kurt was playing hard to get. Ugh… "Drew, give me like two minutes, okay?"

"Sure."

Kurt walked back into the bedroom and cleared his throat. Blaine was staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, but he was in nothing but his boxers. He looked up, grinning. "Hello, love."

"What do I tell a guy that asks me out what we are?"

Blaine looked pensive. "Drew?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Go out with him."

"What?"

"Kurt, I don't control your life. You're 17. You seem to like him enough and he likes you." Another shrug. "It doesn't have to be an actual date. So go out with him. Your dad will get suspicious if you're always _'over at a friend's house.'_" He exaggerated the last few words, winking.

"But…"

"Plus this can offer an explanation for the hickey." Kurt frowned. "The sooner you end the phone call, the sooner you can get back in bed."

Kurt raised the phone to his ear again like lightning. "Drew?"

The boy on the other end of the line cleared his throat slightly, before saying, "Listen, Kurt, I hope this isn't awkward, but my brother's in town and well…how'd you feel about a double date? Do you think you could ask your friend Blaine?"

"Um… Give me another second—sorry, I'm trying to, uh, bake."

"No problem."

Kurt put the phone to his chest. "A double date. Me with Drew, you with Christian."

Blaine's eyes went wide. "No way in hell."

"Come on. It'd be a way for us to go have dinner in public with each other."

"Kurt, we'd be on dates with other people! I'd be on a date with my ex!"

"So he _is _your ex. Who broke it off?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, getting off the bed. "It doesn't matter who broke it off," he said, grabbing his jeans and tugging them back on. "I'm not going out with him."

"Well fine; then I'm not going out with Drew. Why would you even want me to?"

"Because you deserve a real night out. I feel bad, like I'm taking away your teenage years."

Before Kurt could process how ridiculous _that _was he said, "So come with me."

"No."

"Yes."

"_No_."

"_Yes_."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Kurt, do _not_ fight with me on this."

Kurt scowled at him, his fists clenched. He raised the phone again. "I just texted him. He'd love to."

"Awesome! Breadsticks on Friday? 6 o'clock."

Blaine shook his head slowly.

"Yup," Kurt said. "It's a date."

Blaine scoffed, moving past him into the rest of the apartment. "I _can't _believe you did that."

"I can't believe you'd try to convince me to go out with a guy because you feel like you're robbing me of my teenage years! Blaine, we _just_ talked about how loved I feel with you and how that's all I want! What part of that did you not understand? What part of that made you think that I wanted to go out with someone else?"

But Blaine appeared not to have heard him.

"Blaine?"

The TA simply opened up his fridge.

"Are you seriously doing this? And _I'm_ the teenager?"

Silence.

"Fine." Kurt went back inside of Blaine's room and pulled his shirt back on with jerky movements, anger making him shake. He grabbed his bag and stormed back towards the door of Blaine's apartment. He paused in the doorway for a moment. Blaine was watching him. "I'm happy with _you,_ Blaine. When you get over whatever _this_ is and realize that, call me."

Kurt started crying as soon as the elevator doors closed.


	8. Chapter 8

For the rest of the week, they ignored each other. No calls, no texts—they didn't even talk when they saw each other in class. But they watched each other. Blaine couldn't stop looking at him.

He was an idiot. He shouldn't have pushed Kurt to go out with Drew. If he hadn't, they wouldn't be in this awful mess. And what was worse was that he couldn't actually cancel the date because he didn't have a phone number to call. Which meant they were going to have to sit through a date on Friday with _other people_.

On some level, Blaine was still pissed as hell. He didn't want to go out with Christian and it wasn't solely because of Kurt. He knew that the second he saw the other man, things were going to go wrong. Feelings were going to be hurt. And he might lose Kurt forever. Which was pretty much the exact opposite of what he wanted.

But still, he could never force himself to talk to Kurt. Every time he looked over, Kurt looked away. Every time Kurt caught him looking, he would busy himself with something else. It was an idiot dance, choreographed for the both of them to easily hide their feelings.

So Blaine would go to dinner. He would sit there and be jealous of every single thing that Drew did. He would sit there and make small talk with the boy he was in love with, the guy thinking he stood a shot with that boy, and his ex-boyfriend. For the sake of convincing Kurt that he was sorry and he didn't _want_ Kurt to go out with Drew, it was just that he felt so damn _guilty_ about everything.

He would have to move past that guilt, though. He would have to show Kurt that he truly believed they could be together. He just hoped that Kurt would actually speak to him.

-0-

Christian was still the same old guy from high school, Blaine realized about thirty seconds into dinner. He had grown into his looks a little bit more—he was now a good three inches taller than Blaine, making him even with his brother, but still had the same defined jaw and topaz eyes and black hair… He and Drew looked basically nothing alike, which made sense, but still managed to confuse those who didn't know that Christian was adopted.

Blaine also realized that his ex's habits hadn't changed. He was utterly polite and well-mannered. He paid attention to everyone at the table, even asking Kurt about his glee club and then speaking with him in French for a bit. Just like when he was in high school, he was still a vegetarian and he still could spend hours talking about football. And oh, how could Blaine forget? He was a ginormous—colossal really—flirt.

His hand settled onto Blaine's thigh midway through their meal and Blaine choked on his pasta and sent his fork clattering to the plate before moving the hand away. But Kurt had already seen. He tried to catch the younger boy's eye, tried to tell him that it wasn't—it didn't—Christian wasn't… But he didn't really know what to say. Were he and Kurt even still dating?

_Yes,_ he told himself. _Until he officially breaks it off, we're still dating._

There was another time, during dessert, when Kurt and Drew had been giggling over something involving mash-ups and boys versus girls, and Christian had leaned over and whispered, "I'm sure you remember—I may be a vegetarian, but I haven't given up all meat." Blaine had forced himself to not revert back into his teenaged self. It wouldn't have ended well for him if he had. His teenage self was, quite frankly, head over heels in lust for Mr. Christian Maddox, but his current self was completely, totally, undeniably in love with Kurt Hummel and he would not confuse the two.

"So," Christian said, moving away from Blaine after his meat comment, "Kurt, Drew never stops talking about you."

"He exaggerates," Drew muttered quickly. "I may have mentioned you in passing."

Christian laughed and Drew kicked him under the table, glaring. He refrained from saying more when the waitress returned to their table to give them the bill. Blaine immediately reached for it and Christian slapped his arm.

"Don't you dare, Mr. Anderson. The least I can do is buy you dinner."

Drew rolled his eyes, leaning over to Kurt and whispering, "He does this all the time. After that he'll say something like—"

But Drew was cut off when Christian said, "But you can repay me later tonight if you want."

The blonde gestured to his step brother, arching an eyebrow at Kurt. "Like that."

Kurt smiled softly at Drew and turned to look at Blaine, who was arching an eyebrow and shaking his head. "I don't think so."

Christian made a low noise in the back of his throat. "Well, maybe some other time."

"I wouldn't count on it," Kurt muttered into his water. He doubted anyone had heard him, but still, Blaine looked over at him, his eyes soft and apologetic.

No. He didn't want Blaine's apologies. He just wanted to be back to normal. He didn't know what the man was thinking when he'd told Kurt to go with Drew, but he'd hoped the brief insanity period was over and they could go back to actually speaking to each other, kissing, holding hands—because jeez, Kurt really missed it.

He missed being able to call Blaine whenever he wanted. He missed flirting after class. He missed just being with him, dammit! And he was sick and tired of missing what he could have. So tonight, he was going to get it back.

When they made their way outside the restaurant, Drew walked Kurt to his car and held his hand softly as they said their goodbyes. Drew thanked him for agreeing to the date and apologized for his idiot brother.

"It's okay," Kurt whispered.

"Kurt… Can I... Can I kiss you?"

Kurt sighed. "Drew…"

"There's someone else, isn't there?" He didn't say it like he was angry or even sad, just maybe a little regretful. "You seemed…distracted. Like you were thinking about someone else."

Kurt didn't bother trying to disagree. He'd been thinking about Blaine ever since they sat down. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He leaned in barely, kissing Kurt's temple. "I hope you're happy with him."

"Me too."

Drew smiled at him warmly, stepping back to walk over to the car he'd taken with Christian, and when he did, Kurt saw something that nearly made him wretch.

Christian had Blaine—_his _Blaine, dammit!—pressed up against the car, kissing him.

_No. No, no, no, no. God, please, no!_

As if thinking about it had made it happen, Blaine pushed Christian off of him with such force that the bigger man staggered backwards.

"What the hell was that?" Blaine shouted.

Kurt's heart rose in his chest.

"It's what happens at the end of a date, Blaine. Or actually, that's just the beginning."

"I have a boyfriend!"

Christian arched an eyebrow. "So why'd you come out with me?"

"Because I'm _polite_! I have a boyfriend that I'm totally, madly in love with, okay? I don't want you to flirt with me, I don't want to go home with you, and I don't want to see you ever again! Now, I'm going home!" He stormed past Christian, over to his own car and slammed the door as he climbed in.

Drew glared at his brother and shoved him towards the front of the car. "This is why I don't like taking you anywhere."

As the Maddox's car drove off into the night, Kurt had to take a steadying breath to even consider getting into his car, but then he realized that Blaine still hadn't moved. He walked up to the front door of the car and—

Blaine was leaning against the steering wheel, hands on his face.

Kurt's body was moving before his brain was aware and suddenly, he was knocking on the window. The second Blaine looked up at him, he smiled softly.

"Hi," Blaine muttered after he'd rolled down the window.

"I think we need to talk."

"Yeah." He looked over at the passenger's side. "Climb in."

"How about I follow you back to your place?"

Blaine's mouth fell opened slightly, but he nodded. "Yeah. That could work."

-0-

"He dumped me," Blaine said softly. "By text. After being together for almost two years." He looked down at the mug of coffee in his hands and his crisscrossed legs. "He was my first. I thought…I thought he was the one, you know? I was an idiot. I thought I was in love. I'm so sorry, Kurt, that I actually..." Blaine shook his head. "I…I can't imagine what you must think of me right now."

"I love you." Kurt said it like it was just fact, nothing else; like nothing could change it. He sat back farther on the couch, watching the older man. "It was my fault. I was pushy. I was an idiot. I didn't take a second and think about how you must feel, what with this whole thing being…frowned upon."

Blaine smirked softly. "I overreacted. You were being a teenager. That's perfectly acceptable."

"But I'm mature for my age," Kurt said, grinning.

"I think," Blaine muttered, decidedly ignoring Kurt's cheeky expression as Blaine looked up at him, "if we take time to actually talk to each other like this…we'll get through it. And we don't go out on dates with other people."

"Yeah," Kurt said, laughing slightly. "Sounds like a plan."

Blaine's hand found its way to Kurt's. "I love you, Kurt."

The brunette leaned forward, pulling his boyfriend into a kiss. "I love you too." They went on kissing for a moment, lazily, until Kurt pulled back, smiling softly. "Let's go to bed."

"Kurt," Blaine whispered, "no matter how much I want to, we are not having make up sex."

"Aw, you're so boring."

Oh, well, he couldn't have Kurt thinking he was boring… So he simply said, "Oh, really?" before setting down his mug and pulling Kurt into a heated kiss.

Twenty minutes later, Kurt was staring up at the ceiling, breathing heavily while Blaine lifted his head from its place between Kurt's legs and wiped his mouth, grinning cockily.

"I take it back," Kurt gasped. "Not boring. At all."

-0-

"Valentine's Day is coming up."

"…in a month," Kurt muttered, forcing himself not to roll his eyes.

"Look, Kurt," Rachel said, putting her hand over the textbook he was skimming so that he'd look up at her. "I just…I want you to be happy, you know that right?"

"I guess."

"So…my dads know this guy, and I talked to him and…he said he'd like to meet you."

_Oh god, not again._ "Look, Rachel, I'm really sorry, but I don't really want, like, a significant other right now. Or even a date. I'm really very happy with where I am right now."

"Crushing on some older guy that you don't stand a chance with."

"I have a chance!" Kurt said defensively.

"Well then ask him out for Valentine's Day!"

"I…I can't. Rachel, you don't understand. It's complicated…"

"Well what's so complicated about it? You call him, you ask him out, he says yes, you go out, you kiss, date's over. Yay."

Kurt rolled his eyes as he stuffed his book into his locker. They began walking towards the choir room and he had to desperately try to not scream as Rachel ranted about how she just didn't want to see Kurt alone on Valentine's Day—

"Rachel, really, just don't worry about it."

"Hey, Kurt."

The countertenor's heart gave a stutter. He followed Blaine with his eyes as he passed, waving slightly. "Hi, Blaine."

"You did great on the test from last week! I'll pass it back tomorrow, yeah?"

Kurt nodded. "Okay."

Blaine grinned. "Do you wanna come by after your glee rehearsal and I'll take a look at your homework? Just to make sure you got it?"

"Sounds great."

Blaine glanced at Rachel, who was watching them curiously, and then he simply nodded at Kurt and moved back down the hall and towards the French classroom.

"Who's that?" Rachel asked as they entered the choir room.

"Oh, just the French TA."

"So the person you have a crush on is your French teacher's TA."

Kurt clenched his eyes, trying to mentally calculate exactly what level of hell this was. And then Mercedes' voice could be heard from the other side of the room saying, "What?" and Kurt could feel the flames of the underworld lick up at his feet as every member of glee club crowded around him.

_Well hello, Satan. Nice to see you again._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This chappie is "Sexy" and next is parts of "Silly Loves Songs" and "Blame It On the Alcohol" because I'm cool enough to go out of order like that. Yup. Okay. Enjoy. And review. Please. And maybe check out my Niff story, "Kiss Me Quick." If you want. Yeah. Okay. You may read now.**

"Kurt." The brunette looked towards his father, who was standing at the kitchen table. The middle-aged Hummel looked worried and the slightest bit uncomfortable, so Kurt looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. "I think it's time you and I had…_The Talk_."

Kurt shook his head furiously. "No."

"Yes."

"No. No. No, it's not."

"Yes, Kurt—Kurt!"

But the teenager was already stuffing his fingers in his ears and making "la, la, la" noises as he continued through the kitchen. His father was too fast however, and Kurt ended up being shoved into a seat.

"Look, Kurt, just listen, okay? Neither of us want to do this, but we're going to sit down and talk about it and we'll both be better men because of it."

"Oh my god," Kurt said softly. "Dad, seriously—"

His father sat down across from him. "So I think the first thing you need to know is—"

"I know about sex, Dad!"

Burt sighed. "You know about STDs and condoms. I know you, Kurt. You would rather gouge out your eyes than search for the graphic details on the internet." And Kurt had to agree. Porn was disgusting and he never, ever, ever wanted to see that again because _ohmygod they all have mothers and what would those mothers think of them and why would you get that tattooed there?_ "So these"—Burt slid a few laminated pamphlets his way, the titles of which were enough to make him want to roll his eyes—"are so that you can go over the…mechanics of what you'll be doing one day."

"Awesome, great, thanks—glad we had this talk."

"Sit."

Kurt flopped back into his seat, resisting the urge to bolt upstairs and lock the door.

"Look…" Burt sighed. "That guy that you went out with, that gave you that…hickey." He rolled his shoulders, struggling through the words. "I just want you to be safe, Kurt. When you're intimate with someone in that way, you gotta know that you're exposing yourself. You're never gonna be more vulnerable and that scares the hell out of a lot of guys. With two guys you've got two people who think that sex is just sex. It's gonna be easier to come by and once you start, you aren't gonna want to stop." Yeah. Kurt knew about that part. He'd already found himself unable to stop Blaine from haunting his dreams since that night over Winter break… He almost melted at the memory. "You gotta know that it means something.

"It's doing something to you, to your heart, to your self-esteem, even though it feels like you're just having fun." Oh. Well. Kurt knew that it was more than just sex with him and Blaine. They were…intimate. And they were capable of being intimate without…ahem, physical intimacy. No matter how much both of them were interested in that physical intimacy. "When you're ready, I want you to be able to do everything. But when you're ready, I want you to use it as a way to connect to another person." He exaggerated the last part, silently begging his son to not have sex for any other reason. "Don't throw yourself around like you don't matter, Kurt. Because you matter."

Despite the awkwardness of the situation and the fact that Kurt actually knew slightly more about gay sex than he father was giving him credit for, he couldn't help but feel touched. Nevertheless, Kurt knew that any second now Blaine would be waiting for him to call him and so he had to go. Like right now. "Is that all?"

Burt nodded. "That's all. Can I make you some toast?"

"I think I'll just take it up to my room to eat while I read over my new pamphlets."

When Kurt was upstairs, safe in his bed, pamphlets laying open on his pillow and toast-laden plate on his side-table, he grabbed his phone. It wasn't two full rings before Blaine's voice was saying, thick and raspy, "Hey, there."

"My dad just gave me the sex talk."

There was a pause. And then Blaine was laughing.

"Don't laugh!" Kurt said too loudly. He glanced at his door and quieted his voice. "Don't laugh. It's not funny. It was horribly awkward and painful and I never want to go through that again. Besides, we're not even close to full penetrative sex."

This made Blaine stop laughing. "Oh?"

"I, uh…well, I just mean…"

"Kurt, it's okay. I understand that you're not ready."

"I didn't say that." The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Blaine made a contemplative noise. "So you are ready?"

"I…I don't know? I think so. I mean, I'm assuming you've…done _it_ before, more than once, and I just don't want to be that stupid virgin that you have to coddle the whole time."

"Kurt—"

"I mean, basically everything we've done has been initiated by you. Except for the first time. _You _jerked me off in your car, _you_ blew me on New Year's, and _you_ were the one who asked if I wanted to have phone sex last week to make me feel better after stupid Rachel Berry found about my stupid crush."

"You're making me sound like I have a one-track mind towards sex."

"Blaine, I was practically sobbing because I couldn't convince Rachel I wasn't madly in love with you and you said, I quote, 'Would phone sex make you feel better?'"

"Well it did, didn't it?"

Yes. God, yes. One of the greatest experiences of his _life_. Kurt shook his head to clear his thoughts. "That's not the point. I want to feel like I'm…capable. Like…I'm a capable of doing things to you that no one else can do. I want _you_ to act the stupid, blubbering virgin." Kurt sighed. "I just…I'm frustrated. You're seductive. I have as much sexual appeal and knowledge as a…a baby penguin!"

"Kurt, you do amazing things to me. God, you're…you're incredible! You're sexy, you're seductive, you're hot, you're ridiculously attractive. I guess I just don't act like a blubbering virgin because I'm not one, but neither are you, Kurt." Kurt could hear his voice go softer, more tender. "You're not a baby penguin. You're adorable, yes, but god if I don't want to corrupt you every second of every day."

"Why don't you then?" Kurt demanded. And he really wanted to know. "When we're alone, why do we always just watch movies and cuddle and read together and stuff?" _ You just said I was sexy, so why don't you make me feel like I am?_

"Because you don't know if you're ready. And I'm not going to push you into this. I love you, Kurt. I'll wait forever."

"You don't have to wait forever," he said softly. He _wanted_ this with Blaine. He wanted more. Kurt took a deep, shuddering breath. He wanted the intimacy, the realism. He wanted to know what everything was like. He wanted to make Blaine lose it. "I'm ready. I am. Honestly."

There was nothing from the other end of the line and Kurt was about to ask if Blaine was still there, when the tired voice said, "You know that I'll never pressure you. So you have complete control. Over all of this. From now on, it's in your hands. I won't do anything unless you ask."

"I think this is all a ploy to get me to beg for you."

"Kurt."

The brunette sighed, curling up and staring accusingly at his pamphlets. "Fine. But I will be asking. I'm not just saying this. I want to touch you. I want to make you act like a stupid virgin."

Kurt could practically feel Blaine's smile. "I know, Kurt."

"I love you, Blaine."

"I love you too."

"Goodnight."

-0-

Rachel Berry was the determined type. She got what she wanted and that was that. And since Mr. Schue was off with that Holly woman, practicing some god awful rendition of what Rachel assumed was supposed to be "Kiss", she had the perfect opportunity after school to march right into that French classroom and get what she wanted through the TA.

When she walked in, she noted that the desk she immediately saw was vacant and she assumed it was the teacher's. When she turned, she noticed the young man with curly, black hair and so-much-more-than-hazel eyes. Yes. This was him. And he was very, very handsome.

"Hello," he said, his voice low and even.

"Hello. I'm Rachel Berry."

He arched an eyebrow. "Blaine Anderson."

"I'm aware."

"Oh, really?"

"I did some research after I saw you speaking with Kurt in the hall. You're a singer. A good one. And a songwriter, from what I can tell of those recordings on your MySpace page. You're good at that too. So, I have a proposition for you, Mr. Anderson."

"Rachel, I'm like…what, four or five years older than you? Call me Blaine. I'd feel less old."

"I'm trying to write a song for glee club. Plus, our teacher has brought in this woman to teach us about sex and she sang this Joan Jett song and it was fun but kind of uncomfortable and I don't know I guess I could prove that she's not as talented or as useful as you—anyway!" She grinned brightly, clasping her hands in front of her. "I was wondering if you could come into glee club and play something for us and maybe that would convince the rest of those talentless hacks to see that my way really is the best way because we need to write original songs or end up losing. Plus, you could help us write. So, please?"

Blaine blinked for a moment. Wow, this girl talked fast. But it was an interesting—if not slightly creepy and invasive—proposition. And he could get to meet some of Kurt's friends. "Sure. Why not?"

"Fantastic! So you should prepare something mainstream; they'll all be bored with you in an instant"—Blaine frowned slightly, but Rachel was too excited to notice—"and then when you sing one of your originals they'll see the difference and how my idea is going to win us Regionals. Tomorrow, three o'clock, choir room."

"Okay, uh…" But Rachel was already gone. Blaine shook his head, looking back down at his papers. "Wow. Kurt was right. She's nuts."

-0-

**New Text Message from Kurt Hummel:**

_Can I come over?_

Blaine sighed, glancing at his watch. It was 10:48. It would take Kurt twenty six minutes to get to his place and then they'd barely have enough time to be with each other before he'd have to leave to make his midnight curfew.

_Not tonight. Go to sleep._

**New Text Message from Kurt Hummel:**

_Let me rephrase: I'm outside your apartment building._

Oh. Well. Blaine wasn't exactly sure how to…

**New Text Message from Kurt Hummel:**

_I'm kind of cold too. I'm not wearing anything but a trench coat._

Shit.

_And you say you're not sexy. I'll buzz you up._

-0-

Approximately forty minutes later, Blaine was shoving Kurt into his car with some pretty heated kisses, trying to keep himself from loving how the boy looked in his clothes.

"You need to get home."

"Fine." He pulled Blaine in yet again and Blaine could _still_ taste himself on Kurt's tongue. Guh, that was hot. "But I won't be seeing you tomorrow. I have to take a test during first period tomorrow, I have glee club after school, and then I have to go over to my dad's garage right after."

Blaine blushed slightly. "Oh, right, I forgot to tell you."

"Hm?"

"Your friend Rachel invited me to sing during your rehearsal tomorrow; she wants to convince you guys to do original songs and…I don't know."

"…so my secret boyfriend is going to be in the same room as me for an hour and a half—_singing_—and I'm not allowed to touch him or kiss him or really even look at him?"

"Yup."

"Rachel Berry puts me through so much hell."

Chuckling, Blaine nuzzled his neck. "I'll figure out a way to make it up to you."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: The original song in this chapter is called "Addicted," written by a friend of mine who wishes to remain nameless. There's a video of me singing it, in case you were curious, although it no longer needs your votes:) http : / / www . tumblr . com / tagged / inat + song + options**

Kurt's day had started perfectly. He arrived in class twenty minutes before the bell was to ring and he and Blaine spent ten of those minutes—since Madame Henri arrived shortly after those minutes were up—curled with Kurt sitting on his lap and their mouths lazily mouthing along the skin they could see.

"Oops," Blaine muttered. "Good thing you have a scarf."

"Dammit," Kurt said softly, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. "Another hickey?"

"It's on the back. You'll be fine as long as you wear a scarf for the next few days."

"You were the one who was all adamant about us being careful and not doing this at school or making any more hickeys."

Blaine grinned, biting his earlobe. "Yeah, well… I've changed my mind."

"When did that happen?"

"Pretty much the second you sat in my lap."

"Good to know."

By lunch time, Kurt didn't think his day could go wrong. He'd managed to get a solid thirty five minutes with Blaine, during which they beamed and made eyes at each other over their food. It was perfect. It was everything they both wanted. It was romance, pure and simple, with the underlining effect of the fact that this was a serious, mature relationship with those gut-wrenching butterflies and never-ending sexual frustration as a plus.

"Mm, bell's gonna ring soon," Blaine muttered into his mouth.

"Hmm…"

"Kurt?"

The boy pulled away, looking curious. "Huh?"

"Did you hear me?"

He flushed. "Sorry. Uh…distracted."

Blaine chuckled, kissing him chastely. "Go to fifth period. I'll see you in glee."

"God," he laughed. "How are we going to get through that?"

"I'll just be sure not to look at you too much, I guess." That hung in the air for a moment until they both laughed, kissing again like they just couldn't help it because, honestly, they couldn't. "Right. Well…it'll be okay. I promise."

"I'm excited to hear you sing. The last time you sang in my presence was…"

Blaine smiled softly, brushing his nose against his boyfriend's. "The day we kissed."

"I loved that day."

"I love you."

"Good. Because I love you too."

-0-

"So, Rachel, you said you had something to—"

"Fellow glee clubbers," Rachel began as Mr. Schue gave a half sigh and simply walked back by the piano to take a seat as the tiny brunette jumped up to stand in front of the room, "I know you continue to ignore me about doing original songs for Regionals—"

"Because it's stupid," Santana muttered, examining her nails.

Rachel sent her a tiny glare, but her too-cheery expression was back in place seconds later. "The point is that we're supposed to sing an anthem. Anthems are all about your _emotions_ and your _strength_ and getting up to _fight!_ And so I've enlisted the help of someone else to prove to you all the effect that original songs would have up against mainstream pop."

"You love mainstream pop," Mercedes pointed out.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel had opened her mouth to speak when the door opened and every eye flew to it.

In the doorway, Blaine Anderson froze a little awkwardly. He had a messenger bag in one hand and a guitar case in the other. "Uh…hi."

Rachel grinned proudly. "Everyone, this is Blaine Anderson—he's a TA here." She gave them all a pointed look. "Kurt's French TA."

Finn immediately made a weird half-choke noise, kicking the back of Kurt's chair. "Are you _serious?"_

"Shut up," the countertenor hissed.

"But he's also a musician," Rachel continued. She gestured for him to step farther into the room and he didn't even hesitate. "I'll let him explain to you what he's going to show us."

As she scurried back to her seat, Blaine nodded politely at Mr. Schuester, taking the offered stool. He cleared his throat and grinned at the band before retrieving his guitar from its case. As he sat, he said, "Uh, hi, guys. So, my name is Blaine. And I…like writing songs." He smirked slightly as he scanned the room. "You all look a little skeptical."

"We don't want to do original songs," a boy in back that Blaine didn't recognize grunted. "It's stupid."

"Puck," Mr. Schue said softly.

Blaine's smirk grew to a smile. "Alright." He set down his guitar on the floor next to him and stood. He began taking careful steps in front of the room, scanning his audience of high school students. His eyes flickered when he reached Kurt, but the boy did nothing but stare back at him calmly. "Let's start with something different," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

Suddenly, he was jumping towards the band and whispering something in the keyboardist's ear, who then nodded and began pressing buttons and experimenting with keys. Blaine left that group to get themselves and their instruments together and marched up to Santana, who was sitting in the back, at the top riser.

"Miss Lopez, I believe?"

She gave him a lewd grin, running her eyes over him. "I'll be whoever you want me to be, sexy."

He leaned in farther forward and Santana made kind of a purring noise—which somehow turned every other person's eyes in the room on Kurt—before his lips landed next to her ear.

There was a silence for a moment before Santana nodded, still looking particularly evil. "Sure thing."

Blaine smiled warmly at her and then yelped, jumping back.

"Santana!" Mr. Schue chastised.

"Come on, Mr. Schue. It's too scrumptious of an ass to not wanna grab it."

The TA looked at the loss for words so he shook his head and walked back towards the center of the room. With a nod at the band, the music started, along with fake whistling noises coming from a keyboard. He tossed a wink at Santana before he began singing.

_Oh._

_Oh!_

_Just shoot for the stars._

_If it feels right_

_Then aim for my heart._

_If you feel like_

_And take me away, make it okay._

_I swear I'll behave._

He began moving around the room, smiling first at Rachel, and then and Mercedes, who giggled as he sang directly to her.

_You wanted control_

_So we waited,_

_I put on a show._

_Now I make it._

_You say I'm a kid,_

_My ego is big,_

_I don't give a sh…_

He jumped up a riser, staring at Puck.

_And it goes like this._

Blaine quickly skirted through the seats collapsing into one between Quinn and Sam.

_Take me by the tongue_

_And I'll know you._

_Kiss me till you're drunk_

_And I'll show you_

_With them moves like Jagger,_

_I've got the moves like Jagger,_

_I've got the moooooooooves like Jagger._

On the run in the last line, he did a little shimmy, which Quinn laughingly joined him in before he was bursting out of his seat and jumping off the risers and in front of the piano.

_Maybe it's hard._

_When you feel like you're broken and scarred_

_Nothing feels right_

_But when you're with me_

_I make you believe_

_That I've got the key._

He chanced a glance at Kurt, who was leaning into Tina as they half-danced in their chairs.

_So get in the car_

_We can ride it_

_Wherever you want._

_Get inside it_

_And you want to steer—_

He made a cheesy steering motion with his hands as he slid into a seat next to Artie.

_-but I'm shifting gears._

_I'll take it from here._

_Oh, yeah, yeah!_

Blaine leaned across the boy in the wheelchair, grinning at Brittany.

_And it goes like this._

As he went into the chorus again, he got most of New Directions on their feet and even saw—in the sudden crowd—Kurt dancing with Mercedes. He tried not to let it distract him, but he allowed himself a mere moment to stand and grin at the sight.

Finally, he found Santana gyrating next to Brittany and pulled her towards him as she began singing the bridge.

_You wanna know how to make smile_

_Take control, own me just for the night_

_And if I share my secret,_

_You're gonna have to keep it_

_Nobody else can see this._

Blaine's first thought was that Santana was an amazing singer, truly, but then he was a little blind sighted by her getting too close and touching _too much_.

_So watch and learn_

_I won't show you twice_

_Head to toe, ooh baby, roll me right._

_And if I share my secret_

_You're gonna have to keep it._

_Nobody else can see this._

_Eh, eh, eh, yeah!_

And suddenly the whole club was singing the final chorus along with Blaine. He was so caught up in singing—finally, getting to sing with people again instead of in his apartment all alone—that he didn't notice that Kurt was near him until they bumped into each other and the rest of the club sang the last line as Blaine's mouth fell open in surprise.

_I've got the moooooooooves like Jagger._

Distantly, Blaine could hear applause and shouts but…Kurt… His eyes, his hair, his…lips… Blaine's eyes flickered to those lips and he could hear the short intake of breath from Kurt.

"That was amazing, Blaine!"

The voice brought him back to himself and he wondered if Kurt noticed the flash of fear in his eyes when he looked away and realized what had just happened.

"Thank you, Mr. Schuester."

"Wait!" Rachel announced loudly. "He's not done yet!" She gestured wildly for the students to take their seats again. "Now he's going to show an original. So you can see the difference."

Puck groaned. "The difference is—"

"Oh, just shut it, Puck." Mercedes grinned as she sat obediently. "I wanna hear him sing again."

"Right, well…" Blaine sat on the stool from earlier, hoisting his guitar into his arms once more. The room settled as he plucked a few strings and tweaked with it. "I like writing songs. Because they…they let you showcase your emotions. These emotions, no one else has them the same way that you do. The best way to really sell your feelings, your hurt, your angst, your power, your love, whatever it is, is to write your own words. When you're singing words that came from someone else, it just doesn't feel the same. Not to me at least.

"So, I wrote this. And I hope you like it."

Blaine began plucking a single guitar string, keeping an even tempo as he sang, his voice low and even.

_It's that race of adrenaline_

_It's that high in my mind._

_It's flowing in my blood,_

_Not gonna leave until I stop._

_I couldn't stop._

_I'm not gonna stop._

Faster plucks for a moment and then his pick emerged from inside his fist and he made a scale-like melody, left hand moving too fast over the neck for any of the guitar players in the room to catch the notes.

_It's a poison,_

_It's a drug._

_It's reckless,_

_It's fun._

_I'm on an adrenaline high_

_And I'm not coming down._

His picking became strumming and he looked nowhere but his left hand as he sang.

'_Cause the stairs are invisible,_

'_cause the lifeline's dead._

_It's useless,_

_It's over,_

_I've sinned._

He paused for a moment, blinking down at his knee.

_And I'm officially addicted._

_Oh, I'm addicted._

_Oh, I'm addicted._

He would not look at Kurt, he would not look at Kurt…

_The clock is ticking._

_My time is trickling._

_I'm down to my last options_

_And I have to make a choice._

_Am I up or down?_

_Am I safe or alive?_

_It's a test I'll probably fail._

_It only matters if I tried._

As Blaine went into the chorus again, his fingers moved of their own accord. He'd played this song a million times. His eyes found a spot on the wall to fixate on, right next to a window, and he slowed his strums to plucks again, low notes as he sang slowly,

_It's not…my fault._

_It's not…my fault._

_It's not…my fault._

_It's all my fault._

_I couldn't stop._

_I'm not gonna stop._

_It's useless,_

_It's over,_

_I've sinned…_

The chorus was softer this time, although he added a run when he sang, "I'm on an adrenaline high."

He wouldn't look at anyone. This was his song. These were his feelings. This was the squeeze in his heart, the guilt, the…love.

_And I'm officially addicted._

_Oh, I'm addicted._

_Oh, I'm addicted._

-0-

Rachel Berry had never been more sure of anything in her life.

Blaine had a crush on Kurt as well.

And well…she wasn't totally sure what that meant. She couldn't, off the top of her head, see any legal reasons for them not dating—besides Blaine possibly losing his job. But if Blaine felt the same way about Kurt, why didn't they just tell each other at least?

When Blaine's song drew to a close, the club applauded politely and Rachel's mind went back towards original songs as she registered that Sam was speaking.

"—the fact we don't know _how_ to that's the problem."

"Blaine said he would help," Rachel offered. "He can work with all of us."

The TA smiled, but it looked sad. At least to her.

"Alright," Mr. Schue said. "This week's assignment: write an original song."

-0-

"What were you thinking?"

Blaine looked up and glanced at his watch. "You're ten minutes late."

"You didn't answer any of my calls last night, you didn't respond to my texts, you ignored me."

"It's lunch time, Kurt. Just…sit."

"First you sing a suggestive song with Santana Lopez and then you sing this…this…"

"Sit."

Kurt sat.

"Look," Blaine began, setting down his pen and crossing his arms on his desk, "I just…I obviously wasn't thinking because all I could think was that I wanted to sit next to you and touch you and kiss you and… But I couldn't." He squeezed his hands closed. His palms were itching. "I'm so in love with you, Kurt. But as you saw with the whole Drew and Christian fiasco, I'm not the best judge of what's good for you. So maybe help me out and tell me if you want us to break up or—"

"What are you talking about?" Kurt interrupted.

"I was too obvious, I know, and—"

"What? No—just, shut up. For a second, seriously, just shut up. When I asked you what you were thinking, it's because I was sitting right there and I was seriously about to jump you when you started singing. Your original was beautiful. Your voice was flawless. I could barely control myself."

"…really?"

Kurt grinned. "Really."

"So you're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

Blaine shrugged. "You told me about your friends. I thought maybe they'd…I don't know, do something crazy and get us in trouble."

"They're not that smart. No one suspects a thing."

"Alright, then." He opened his arms, reaching for Kurt's hands. "So shall we have lunch together?"

"We shall. But, uh, next time you want to sing a song like 'Moves Like Jagger,' ask me and we'll have ourselves a lovely little duet in your apartment." His fingers stroked Blaine's softly. "Clothing optional."

-0-

It was almost funny how things could go from perfect to shit so quickly.

The second he'd stepped out of his bedroom, his day went down the toilet.

First, the shirt he'd worn—complete with vest and a skinny scarf—was ruined at breakfast and nothing else would match. He spent a good thirty minutes trying to tame his ridiculous-looking hair and was then late getting to school, meaning he missed his chance to see Blaine and to skirt past the jocks waiting by the Dumpster.

When he'd managed to get all of the disgusting spaghetti off of his vest—which he promptly threw away anyway—he hurried through the halls.

Maybe it was just him, but…were people…_staring _at him? Laughing? More than usual, at least?

Kurt ignored it. Probably yet another Karofsky/Azimio prank. Doodles in the bathroom? Posters in the cafeteria?

But no. Everybody who was jeering was holding a newspaper. Not the Muckraker. Ugh, not more of this same old stupid dribble run by some washed up literature teacher who couldn't actually read what was being published through her too-thick glasses. Azimio had probably just submitted more of the same: stupid names and lies about examining the other boys in the locker room.

But… Oh. Oh no. What if…?

He broke into a sprint, skidding into the French classroom just as the bell rang.

There was an issue sitting on his desk when he walked in and Kurt didn't even have to glance at the little scrawl of "X - B" of red pen in the corner to know that Blaine put it there. No. No, no, no, no…

He flipped through it, waiting, gut clenched, prepared for it. But it still hit him like a ton of bricks when he saw it.

_Which disgustingly flamboyant member of McKinley's official Loser Club (aka: the Glee Club) has finally managed to find himself a boyfriend (or at least someone to cause that ginormous hickey on the back of his neck)?_

Shit. He'd forgotten to wear a scarf yesterday. Damn that stupid Jacob Ben Israel. Damn him and his stupid camera and his stupid spying skills and his stupid face. Damn him for taking the one thing that was making Kurt slightly happy, that was making Kurt smile for once, and throwing it all away because he was _bored_. Damn him.

Even worse, that explained everything. It explained the hall, it explained why Blaine didn't say good morning to him. And it was inevitable. This was the end.

Before Kurt knew what was happening, he was out of his seat—even though he'd just sat down—and he had thrown the newspaper in the trash and sprinted out of the classroom at the speed of light.

And the thing he wanted most was for Blaine to run after him. Unfortunately, that was also the least likely thing to happen.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Ohmygod, this took for-freaking-ever. I'm so, so sorry. But…I hope you enjoy:)**

"Kurt."

The boy froze, closing his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Why aren't you in the cafeteria?"

"Just…I just want to be alone, okay?" he snapped.

Rachel took another step farther into the choir room. "Kurt, I-I'm sorry but I feel the need to ask… It's Blaine, isn't it? You're dating Blaine."

Kurt didn't look up. He barely shifted in his seat on a riser, twisting his hands together. "I have to break up with him, don't I?"

"Nobody cares about that stupid school newspaper," Rachel muttered, moving forward to sit next to him. He still wouldn't look at her, but he didn't move away. "It'll blow over before you know it. The glee kids might harass you a bit about it, but I'll cover for you. I'll tell them I was attacking your hair with a curling iron and voila." When Kurt didn't respond, Rachel giggled nervously. "Who knows? Most of them might just…not care?"

"I love him."

"…I noticed, when he sang that song, the one he wrote… That was when I thought that maybe your…feelings were returned."

"What do I do?" he asked softly, sounding broken.

"Call him." He finally looked up at her, appearing skeptical. "Honestly. Do it. That way you don't have to be face-to-face but you can get whatever you need to say out of the way."

Kurt seemed contemplative for a moment. "Why are you being so nice to me about this?"

"Maybe I just don't want your happiness to fall apart so easily."

There was a brief moment of silence where they simply sat together, staring at the wall or the piano or the door. And Kurt's phone buzzed in his pocket.

_Come to the French classroom._

Kurt stared at the words, his heart heavy in his throat.

"Go," Rachel whispered.

"I can't. He…he'll break up with me. I…I know that I've been walking around thinking that it's true love and that everything will work out perfect, and it's a nice idea, Rachel, but it doesn't happen in high school and it doesn't happen to me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm me! I get harassed and shoved and tossed into Dumpsters and slushied and bullied more than the rest of the club put together just because I'm…me."

Rachel sat up and looked up at him, her eyebrows shoved together. "You're getting bullied more?"

Kurt brushed off her question. "Rachel, the point is… I can't go see him. Not yet. I'm not ready for this to be over yet." He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you after school at glee."

"Wait. Just know that sometimes the universe is really shitty because something better is coming. Y'know?"

"…bye, Rachel."

-0-

He loved Blaine. Blaine loved him.

But Blaine didn't run after him.

It wasn't like he had been expecting it. He understood, really. It just was just that… God, Blaine was everything to him. And it hurt too badly, knowing that their relationship wasn't…normal.

Kurt shook off the thought, exiting his sixth period a few moments after the bell rang and making his way towards the choir room. The hallways were thinning as students raced to the parking lot and Rachel had been mostly right—the looks and laughs and jokes had been thinning throughout the day too.

Or so he thought.

There were a few copies of the paper taped against his locker, his article all covered with Sharpie-written comments calling him every name in the book. And suddenly he went from sad to angry. Why was he just taking all of this lying down?

He was done with Karofsky. He was done with the football team. He was done with the name-calling and the slushies and the Dumpster. He. Was. Done.

And it was ending Monday morning, when he would walk into the building and not give a shit to what anybody thought of him. They had taken away _everything_. But he wouldn't throw away his courage.

"Kurt."

He jumped in surprise, spinning around. "I… Blaine."

Blaine's expression was nearly unreadable but his eyes… They were deep and heavy and...lonely. "You didn't come see me at lunch."

Kurt's mouth opened and he tried to force himself to speak but…nothing came out. Quickly, he turned on his heel and began walking towards the choir room. _Yeah, right_, he chastised himself. _Courage. What a load of—_

"Wh—Kurt, wait! Hey, hold on!" Blaine called, grabbing his wrist. When Kurt was immobile again, still not looking at him, he said quietly, "Kurt, please tell me—"

"Look, just get it over with okay?" Kurt mumbled, staring at his shoes as he squirmed his wrist from Blaine's grasp. "I have to get to glee club."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you're going to break up with me so just do it."

Blaine's heart skipped a painful beat as he realized that Kurt didn't sound all that torn up about the fact that their relationship might be ending. However, he shook off the thought and stepped around him, grabbing Kurt's chin in his hand. When their eyes met, Blaine said softly, "I'm not breaking up with you, Kurt."

"…promise?"

"Promise."

"Even if I told you that Rachel figured it all out and knows about us?"

There was a beat. And then, "_What?_"

Kurt's sad expression didn't change. "She came to see me today at lunch. Told me she'd figured it all out. I… I couldn't argue with her. I was so tired of…of hiding. I love you, Blaine! I'm already a freak here and the one thing that makes me feel normal, that makes me feel loved, is something that I have to hide and it's just not fair!" He felt like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, but he didn't care. He dropped his bag and leaned against a locker, staring at the opposite wall as he eyes filled with tears. "But…you didn't run after me."

"…what?"

"When I ran out of the classroom this morning, you didn't follow me."

Blaine's mouth hung open. "Oh, Kurt, I…I'm so sorry. Most of my friends, when they're upset, they like to be alone or just go out for a beer… I assumed… I'm sorry. I know it's not an excuse but I didn't know that you wanted me to go after you."

"Of course I wanted you to. The whole school is reading about a hickey that shouldn't be there and saying even worse things about me than usual. I wanted my boyfriend."

Blaine pulled him in close, resting their foreheads together as their arms wound around each other's waists. "I promise from now on, I'll always run after you. You," he continued softly, "are _not_ a freak. You are beautiful. You are perfect. You are smart and witty and clever and so strong… And I'm so, so sorry that you had to go through this. That you're _going _through this. It's all my fault, really—"

"Blaine."

"Yes, love?"

"What do we do now?"

"…well, now you go to glee club. After that, you call me. I've been an absolutely horrible boyfriend, Kurt, regardless of my job and your age—"

"Oh my god, for the last time, I'm 17!"

"—I should've run after you. And, dammit, I should've been more thoughtful about the Karofsky issue and the Dumpster tosses and the slushies but I've been ignoring it because I thought you wouldn't want me to see you as a victim—"

"I don't."

"—and god, I'm so stupid. So tonight, we're going out to dinner. Real dinner. Real date. And I won't even gripe and bitch about your innocence if you want to spend the night."

Kurt smiled softly. "You're a perfect boyfriend. We're learning, okay?"

"It's that…this is so real for me, Kurt. I love you. I want… I don't want this to end. You understand what I'm saying, right?"

"I think so."

"So just know that from now on, I'm here. Whenever you need me, yeah?" Kurt nodded and they eased out of the embrace, their fingertips lingering for a moment. "Call me when you're done. I have to go see someone."

"Love you."

There was a beautiful moment where Blaine's smile was the happiest Kurt had ever seen him and it almost physically hurt, knowing that he could do that to someone. "Love you too, Kurt. Always."

-0-

"David Karofsky is a bully."

Principal Figgins arched an eyebrow at the man sitting on the other side of his desk. "Can you provide evidence—"

"You saw the Muckraker this morning. You've seen the kids walking to class with slushie dripping from their hair. You _know_ and you're choosing to ignore it. _Why?_"

"There's no proof that it's him." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, but there have been no other complaints—"

"Because the kids he's harassing are scared out of their minds that he'll hurt them if they tell."

"Mr. Anderson, unless you can provide evidence, I'm afraid there's nothing—"

Blaine stood up, circling his chair. "Sir, with all due respect, that is complete and utter bullshit. But I'll still find your evidence because I, for one, cannot sit idly by while students are attacked." As he stormed out of the room, he chose to ignore his hypocrisy. It was different now. Yes, he was late to the party, but it could always use more people.

-0-

Kurt didn't go to glee. The second he and Blaine parted ways, he was on his way to the parking lot. He didn't want to deal with his friends today, not when he could go to Blaine's and wait for him there.

As he drove, he made sure to let his dad know he'd be staying over at Rachel's—she would cover for him. He threw some clothes in a bag when he stopped by his house, as well as other necessities, and then he was off.

He loved Blaine's apartment. It really felt like a second home to him. He knew the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom… In fact, he knew each of them intimately. And dammit if that wasn't something he could brag about forever.

Kurt collapsed on Blaine's couch the second he walked in the door, burying his face in a pillow and breathing in the scent. It smelled like safety. And a little bit like exhaustion.

The next thing he knew, he was being jolted awake by the sound of his phone ringing. He fumbled with it for a moment, groggily saying, "Uh, hello?"

"Hey, gorgeous. You didn't call. Are you ready to go?"

Kurt sat all the way up, wincing at the light in the room. "Um. I'm kind of already at your apartment."

"…do you mind if I ask why?"

"Didn't wanna go to glee club today. I knew what would happen and I just…wanted to postpone it."

"Alright. I understand. I'm on my way."

Kurt smiled softly. "I love you, Blaine."

"You too."

-0-

Kurt's favorite thing in the world was that rumble of a laugh Blaine had when they were kissing. For no apparent reason at all, Blaine would start to smile and then he would laugh, from his chest, the noise deep calming and more of a vibration than anything else.

After a truly wonderful dinner full of hand holding under the table and flirting, they ended up back at Blaine's, sprawled on the couch together with Kurt straddling the curly-haired man, hands hooked behind his neck, Blaine's arms wrapped around his waist.

"You're beautiful," Blaine whispered after the laugh, still grinning.

"You taste like wine."

"Is it bothering you?"

Kurt shook his head, breathing, "No," as he pressed their lips together again. There were a few more minutes of slow kissing and then Kurt pulled back again. "What'd you do when I left school?"

"Oh, uh, I just went to go see a co-worker."

"Hmm…"

Blaine almost relented and told Kurt about going to see Figgins, but when Kurt's mouth drifted to that spot below his jaw, he decided it could wait. Blaine really didn't want to fight. He didn't want to bring it up and have Kurt get mad at him right then because the moment was perfect.

It wasn't the kissing—although it certainly didn't hurt—but it was the intimacy. They were _them_ again. They were Kurt and Blaine. They were a new Kurt and Blaine, though. This Kurt and Blaine went out to eat on real dinner dates. This Kurt and Blaine talked about the future. This Kurt and Blaine were madly, insatiably, absolutely-no-turning-back-now in love with each other. And they always would be.

"Come on," Kurt whispered against his lips. "Let's go to bed."

And as Blaine let Kurt lead him to his bedroom by his hand, he smiled to himself because he could picture this happening every night for the rest of his life.

**A/N: Valentine's Day and Blame it on the Alcohol coming up next!**

**Love,**

**E. M. Zeray**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Valentine's Day. Smut. You've been warned. Pretty, pretty please let me know what you think! :D**

"So, Valentine's Day."

Kurt nodded, staring at his half-eaten lunch. "Valentine's Day."

"…I was wondering…"

"Blaine, you don't have to bother asking me out anymore. We're dating. We're a thing. Relax."

"I-I know. It's just… I think there's something really great about a day where you can put yourself out there and tell someone, 'I'm in love with you.' Y'know?"

Kurt smiled, looking across the desk. "Yeah."

"But I've been procrastinating in asking you because I was…nervous and… And I want it to be special, so I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner at my place. And…stay the night." He cleared his throat afterwards but kept his eyes trained on Kurt's. "We wouldn't even have to watch sappy movies if you didn't want to. We could watch a horror film for all I care."

"Blaine—"

"I'm not saying we have to, uh, _do_ anything—"

"Oh my—Blaine, stop talking." Blaine's mouth closed. "I swear, how many times do I have to… I would_ love_ to have dinner with you tomorrow and I would _love_ to spend the night. But right now, I have to go to fifth period." He stood up and leaned over the desk, kissing his boyfriend softly right as the bell rang. "Don't freak out too much, okay?"

"Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"

"Once or twice."

"I'm the luckiest man alive."

Kurt winked. "Yup."

-0-

Rachel fell into step with him as he was walking towards the choir room after school. They didn't look at each other, but remained hyper-aware of each other's presence.

"So?" she said.

"So…what?"

"Are you two okay?"

Blaine halted, clearing his throat. "Rachel—"

"Look, I know that maybe Kurt and I haven't been all that close in the past, but I see how happy you make him and I know that I shouldn't—"

"No. You shouldn't."

She hesitated before closing her mouth and nodding. "Alright. So, I was thinking for the song you're going to help me write…"

Blaine sighed softly as they began walking again.

In glee rehearsal that afternoon, there was no random bursting into song, in fact everything was pretty quiet. A few of the guys had their guitars and were trying to manipulate harmonies and melodies and words into a song. Blaine was sitting by the piano with Rachel, his guitar leaning inconspicuously next to the risers.

And Kurt wasn't there.

He tried not to notice, not to stare at the empty seat next to Mercedes, but he just kept looking. And then at the clock. And at his phone. At the door. Where was Kurt?

"You're not very subtle," Rachel told him after the fifth time he'd stared at the closed door.

He faced the piano again, clearing his throat. "Right—so, where were we?"

"You love him."

"I was thinking, for when you do the short run at the end of the first chorus, we can make the notes—"

"Blaine."

"Or, you know, there's this really great technique that my old piano teacher showed me—"

"He loves you too."

He sighed, facing her. "What are you trying to get out of me right now?"

"You're not using him, are you?" She didn't say it like she was actually asking, more like she was just coming to the realization herself. "You're way too nice. You actually want a relationship with him. You want this to last."

"I wouldn't still be with him if I didn't."

"I couldn't be sure. I mean, from everything I've seen on those soaps my dads watch…" Rachel smiled. "You guys remind me of my dads."

And with that she went back to scribbling on some sheet music while Blaine stared at the door again.

Dads.

He smiled at the thought.

When Kurt walked in the door of the French classroom on Friday morning, Blaine watched him. The boy sat at his desk, took out a notebook, scribbled a few things, ripped out the page, and stood again. Casually, he passed Blaine's desk, the paper falling from between his fingers before he walked up to Madame Henri and began chatting casually in French.

_Sorry I wasn't at glee yesterday. I went grocery shopping for tonight. My dad already said I could stay at Rachel's—she'll cover for us. I'm leaving right after school to get set up. Call me when you're on your way home. And happy Valentine's Day. I love you._

Blaine stuffed the note into his pocket and took a deep breath. Yeah, he could get through the day as long as he thought about that night. Dinner and movies and candles and kisses—their first Valentine's Day as a couple. If that wasn't incentive to survive the day, he didn't know what was.

Glee rehearsal was more of the same. Rachel was focused on her usual things again: the song and herself; and she didn't bring up Kurt again.

"Hey," he muttered into his phone as he was leaving the classroom, sheet music stuffed in his bag and his guitar in his hand. "I'm on my way."

"Dinner will be ready when you get here."

A smile bloomed on his face. "This seems awfully domestic, you know."

"I know. I like it."

"Me too, babe."

"Hurry home, Valentine. There's more than dinner waiting here for you."

Blaine accidentally ran a red light on the way home.

-0-

Dinner was lovely. They ate and flirted and sipped wine. They watched _Enchanted _and _Tangled_ as they cuddled on the couch, eating chocolate-dipped strawberries and kissing away the mess they'd made around their mouths.

And then the kissing progressed. Their arms wrapped around each other and their breaths were coming fast and short. Finally, they stood up, stumbling over themselves as they tried to keep their mouths connected, and made it into the bedroom.

There were no words. Why would they need them? At first, they were just together, kissing slowly as they sat down and spread themselves out on the bed, and then Blaine's hand crept up Kurt's shirt and they were both getting undressed, the only noises in the air their breaths and moans and the rustle of fabric and zippers.

Kurt ended up underneath him, their hips aligned and their mouths still connected, and the younger man—because he had been right all along, he wasn't truly a child—wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders, pressing their chests together. When Blaine moaned into his mouth, Kurt could feel the vibration from his chest. Everything was heightened.

Slowly, they remembered that there were some things that needed to be taken care of and so they separated their bruising lips and went about easing some of the tension. When Blaine started kissing his neck and slipping down his body though, Kurt could feel something shift in the air. This was no longer and slow and patient. The second Blaine's mouth was on him, everything became hot and desperate.

A few minutes later, Kurt grabbed Blaine's hair tightly, gasping for breath. The curly-haired man pulled off and kissed his boyfriend's hip, tasting the salty skin stretched over the bone. Kurt felt like there were words frozen in his throat but he didn't know what he was trying to say so he kept quiet as Blaine went on kissing every inch of his body.

This was it. There was no question, no hesitation, no apologies. Later, they weren't quite sure how they'd even made the decision, but they didn't really care.

Blaine rolled, taking Kurt with him, and the brunette was on top, his legs between Blaine's. He didn't remember his bedmate grabbing hold of his wrist to show Kurt how to prep him, but it must have happened because he was suddenly staring down at three of his fingers disappearing into a writhing Blaine.

Their eyes locked. They both asked the same question with their faces, wide eyes, parted lips, begging reassurance. Kurt nodded first and Blaine's eager responding nod would have been comical if Kurt hadn't been so turned on.

He didn't know why, but he felt like he shouldn't speak. It felt like there was this great big pressure in his chest, on his lungs, telling him that words would ruin the moment. Weren't there supposed to be whispered sentences, begging, and 'I love you's? Wasn't he supposed to say something about how perfect Blaine felt around him and how everything felt? Maybe. That could be another time though because, while it was true, the only sounds he wanted to hear right then were Blaine's.

God, he made beautiful noises. He gasped when Kurt slid into him and after a moment of being horrified that he'd done something wrong and hurt him and Blaine was never going to want to have sex with him again, he gave a shaky moan, his eyes drooping closed and his mouth staying open. Kurt took that as an invitation, kissing him softly.

Blaine's fingers twisted into his hair as he pulled their mouths together. It was sloppy and wet, but so, so good. Blaine was quiet, with little moans and whines and the movement of his hips, encouraging Kurt to move and then everything was just an overload of sensation because he was _inside_ Blaine. He must have died because there was no way heaven could be any better than that.

The first word spoken since they'd moved to the bedroom came from Blaine.

"There," he gasped, throwing his head back. Kurt was too terrified to speak. "Right there, Kurt. Oh, god…"

Oh. Well. That must be… Kurt moved experimentally, his hips rolling as he brushed up against the spot inside of Blaine again.

"Guh." Blaine was working desperately against him now and the room was ten degrees hotter as his heels hooked around Kurt's legs, sending him even deeper. "Kurt, s-say something. Anything. Say you l-love me."

Kurt buried his face in Blaine's neck, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He made what he hoped was an affirmative noise into the salty skin under his lips because… He couldn't. He couldn't speak. It would ruin it. It felt like his voice would break some spell. So instead he moved faster, squeezed Blaine's hip harder, bit into Blaine's shoulder like he remembered from their first encounter like this. Of course that hadn't really been anything like this. That had been stupid and hormone-driven and on a desk. This was… This was love. Natural, pure, sweet, simple love. And Kurt had never felt better.

The bite seemed to work, Kurt realized. One of Blaine's hands was tugging on Kurt's hair in a super distracting way and he was making all of these noises—

Kurt captured Blaine's mouth with his because the way those moans and grunts and pleas sounded in his ear had made that warmth and tingling sensation begin in his stomach and he could really not come so quickly. But, oh, jeez, Blaine's hands were everywhere; on his neck, his shoulders, his back, his ass, his chest, tweaking his nipples, holding onto his arms so tightly that he was pretty sure there would be bruises.

"Close," he rasped. "_Kurt…_"

He nipped Blaine's bottom lip, making a desperate noise.

"H-help…" He grabbed one of Kurt's hands, wrapping it around the flesh jutting against his stomach.

Kurt nodded, trying to keep his orgasm at bay as he pathetically attempted to get Blaine there first. Apparently it worked well enough because Blaine was crying out his name—_his name_—and coming between their bodies and over his fist. God, but that was the hottest thing ever. And the way Blaine's body was twitching around him and how positively destroyed he looked just made Kurt completely lose it.

He was pretty sure he said a million embarrassing things as he came, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

When he had control over his body again, he shakily lifted himself off and out of Blaine, wincing slightly at how sensitive everything suddenly was. His breathing was ragged and his limbs felt like goo as he removed and tied off the condom, placing it in the trashcan. He sat on the side of the bed with his legs hanging off and his shaky arms keeping him upright.

"Kurt."

He rolled his neck and stretched slightly, hearing his shoulders crack.

"Kurt."

His thighs were sore and his toes were tingling.

"Kurt."

His stomach felt mushy. And empty. Hm, he was pretty hungry.

"_Kurt!_"

"What?" His throat felt sore, just getting the word out.

Blaine sighed. "Are…are you okay?"

Without hesitation, Kurt nodded. "Yes. Absolutely."

"Can you look at me, please?"

Kurt gave his shoulders one last roll before swinging his feet back onto the bed and laying down on his side, facing Blaine. Wow. He was gorgeous. He had a legitimate after-sex glow. That could get distracting.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No! Of course not! Why would I be?"

"You were really quiet. And I know that's not you, Kurt. You were holding back."

Kurt closed his eyes, squashing his face into the pillow.

"Did I…rush you?" There was a noise from the pillow that Blaine assumed was a response in the negative. "So…was it not _good_ or…?"

"Please," Kurt said, lifting his head. "If it had been any better, I would have combusted."

"So what's wrong?"

"I…" He hesitated, trying to form the words correctly in his head. "I just wanted to be good for you." Kurt licked his lips and moved his hands awkwardly, starting to feel too exposed under Blaine's gaze. "I wanted to be like the other men you've dated—the older men, the experienced men, the ones who could do this…well. And make you feel good."

"Kurt." He reached up, cupping Kurt's cheek. "You were perfect. All of this, all of tonight, it was… It was the best sex I've ever had. Because I've never felt like this about anyone else. You mean so much to me."

Kurt silenced him with a kiss, sweetly pressing their swollen lips together. When he pulled back, he was smiling. "I love you."

"You too."

Kurt sighed happily. "Now, I need a shower." He moved off the bed on slightly still-wobbly legs. "Care to join me?"

"Well I don't mind if I do."


	13. Chapter 13

Strando and Azimio found themselves in a very familiar position on the next Monday: walking down the hall, each with slushie cups in their hands, headed for a long-time target. There was something almost poetic about how unaware the young man was, leaning next to his locker with the end of his pen in his mouth, staring pointedly at a textbook. For the students in the far hallway of McKinley High's main building, the morning was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

The colored slush landed on top of Kurt's head at first and his mouth opened at the same time his eyes closed. From his hair to his shoes, under his clothes and ugh, that would be a bitch, he was drenched in sticky drink.

The two boys wearing lettermen jackets high-fived as they walked away, leaving Kurt to slam his textbook—which had received minimal damage—into his locker and storm to the nearest bathroom. Only there was someone in his way.

"We're going to Figgins," Blaine said softly.

"As if that would make a difference," Kurt hissed.

Blaine sighed before grabbing Kurt's hand to lead the slushie-soaked boy towards the bathroom. "One day, Kurt, we will make a difference."

-0-

The rest of the week was routine.

But the hits just kept coming. Karofsky, Strando, Azimio, the hockey players, taunts and random derogatory words from equally random students. Slushies, shoves, and yet, no more death threats. It wasn't exactly comforting.

Friday, though, was different. Regionals was quickly approaching and everyone was feeling the tension. Puck was the one who pointed it out, however. He specifically pointed it out to Rachel Berry. Kurt was in the middle of lunch with Blaine when he got the phone call.

"Hello," he sang, staring at Blaine dopily. His boyfriend threw a grape at him, which bounced off his nose. He went cross eyed, staring at the spot, and then they both broke into giggles as Mercedes, on the other end of the line, announced the plans for a party the following night. "Are you inviting me?"

"_Of course. It's gonna be a glee thing. And I think Puck's bringing Lauren along_."

Kurt tried to ignore Blaine's nose against his neck. "So tomorrow then? At Rachel's?"

"_Yup. Finn says he's got everything covered with your dad and his mom so no worries there. And I'll swing by to pick you up if you want_."

"Sounds great. See you at glee later."

"_Bye, boo_."

Blaine nibbled on Kurt's earlobe. "What's going on tomorrow at Rachel's?"

"Glee party."

"So the date I never got to ask you on is off then."

Kurt chuckled, pushing Blaine away. "We'll reschedule."

"Mmm, well I hope we reschedule soon," he stated lowly, almost growling as he leaned in to kiss Kurt softly. Immediately however, he pulled back. "Right, okay, no more of this. You have to go."

"Kicking me out so soon, Blainey?" he teased, but stood up anyway. The bell would ring any second and soon students would be coming in to ask Blaine for help on last minute homework problems and reviewing quizzes.

"Yes. I'll see you after glee rehearsal—your dad already thinks you're going to hang out with Rachel?"

"Yup."

Blaine grinned. "Perfect. So coffee at my place."

"Can't wait."

-0-

They had their own language, honestly. Coffee meant make-out time. Dinner meant sleeping over. Movies meant finding some theatre far away from town to make out in the back row. They actually hadn't developed a word for sex yet, seeing as it had only happened less than a handful of times and only last weekend. Kurt was pretty positive they would develop a word quickly enough, though.

They were in the middle of "coffee" when Blaine pulled away and whispered, "Do you want to…?"

"Do we have enough time?"

"Nng, no. There's never enough time."

It was true. At least over that past week it had been true. It was ridiculous, frankly, that they didn't even have enough time for a romp in the back of a car or even thirty minutes on the phone together—not that it would really take that long, but…still.

"You should be getting home," Blaine whispered against his lips.

"You're right. I should."

Kurt got in his car forty minutes later and was home precisely at curfew with a few new hickeys on his chest. They'd made some time. And then Kurt knew their word. Although, it was more of a phrase with this one.

_Do you have time?_

He laughed, driving home under a thin rainfall, and his laugh was loud. Boisterous. Obnoxious. But there was no other way to react! He laughed again, even louder this time.

Time. What a beautiful representation. They didn't have time. They didn't have any at all. And yet they made it for each other. They made time for kisses, for holding hands, for lunches, for dates… They had all the time in the world for love in a situation where it certainly felt like they shouldn't.

He was still walking on air when he woke up in the morning. He went through his normal routine and proceeded to hop downstairs with a dopey grin on his face to make breakfast. However, when he arrived at the base of the stairs and noticed his father's expression, his smile fell.

"Dad?"

Burt looked over at his son as if he had shocked the middle aged man out of his thoughts. "Uh, hey, Kurt." He stood up, moving around the table and into the kitchen to ditch his dishes. "I'm gonna take your car into the shop this morning, okay? And you're sleeping over at Rachel's tonight, yeah?"

He nodded, frowning. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, kid, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Um. Good. Why does my car need to go to the shop?"

"I thought I'd just do a check-up after all the snow and everything. Can't be too careful." His father patted his shoulder as he walked past.

"Wait." Burt stopped. "You're lying to me."

"Kiddo—"

"What's wrong with my car, Dad?"

He sighed and covered his face with a hand, thumb and index fingers pressing into his temples. "Some idiot took a can of spray paint to it last night."

Kurt knew the answer before he asked. "What does it say?"

"Kurt, go do homework or something," he mumbled, waving his hand.

"Dad."

Burt shook his head, walking towards the front door. "I'll see you later, Kurt.

"_Dad!_"

The door closed quietly behind him.

-0-

_Poppin' bottles in the ice, like a blizzard._

_When we drink, we do it right, getting' slizzard._

_Sippin' sizzurp in my ride, in my ride, like a Three 6._

_Now I'm feelin' so fly like a G6._

_Like a G6, like a G6._

_Now I'm feelin' so fly like a G6_.

"It tastes like pink! _It tastes like pink_!"

It was barely an hour into Rachel Berry's House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza and Kurt was definitely on the better side of drunk. He'd taken a body shot off of Santana and had let Rachel and Brittany and even Puck take theirs off him. He'd been moping when he'd arrived. The alcohol soon changed that.

"Kurt, _Kuuurrrt_…" Rachel leaned on him, a half-empty wine cooler in her hand, breath scented too sickly sweet that it made Kurt's stomach churn. "You're so…hot."

With his red shirt unbutton halfway and his tie undone and hanging on either side, plus his messy hair and his flushed skin, almost every girl in the room was looking at him lustfully, completely unaware or uncaring of the fact that Puckerman was also half naked, not to mention Brittany, although Santana seemed to be paying a bit of extra attention to her.

"_Kuuurrrt_… Are you drunk?"

He nodded, swaying haphazardly. "So, so drunk."

"Let's…play a game."

"Hmm… What game?"

"You'll see." And with that she stumbled up towards the stage, yanked the microphone away from Santana in the middle of her raspy rendition of 'Closer' which Sam had been thoroughly enjoying, and shouted, "Spin the bottle! _Who wants to play 'Spin the Bottle'?_"

The first few spins were creative and exciting and funny and then Rachel squealed, "My turn!" and Kurt was swaying quietly to himself, daydreaming about Blaine and how much he missed him and god, he couldn't wait to get his car back so that he could drive to see him and—oh. His car. And just like that, he could feel his whole attitude change. In a split second, he went from being carefree and happy to utterly depressed.

Standing up on wobbly legs, he made his way towards the staircase and up, through the halls until he came to a bathroom. He collapsed onto his knees. He was going to be sick—he was sure of it. He was going to hurl. Awesome.

-0-

Blaine was in the middle of grading papers when his phone rang. Lazily, he reached for it, eyes still trapped on the quiz and how the hell anyone, even in Madame Henri's French 1 class, could mess up such an easy infinitive and—oh. Kurt was calling.

"Hey, gorgeous. Boring party?"

"No," Kurt giggled. "Fun. Sticky. Loud."

Blaine arched an eyebrow, red pen making a few marks before flipping to a new page. "Sticky? How so?"

"Body shots, of course. My stomach is all sticky with salt and saliva and yuck and I think I might have spilled some liquor on me… And Rachel definitely lost some of her wine cooler on my shirt—"

"Kurt." Blaine sat up straight, dropping his pen onto the desk. "Are you guys drinking?"

"Isn't that what I just said, Blainers? Wow, maybe you should get your hearing checked."

"Oh my god, you're drunk," Blaine hissed. "I cannot believe that you would—"

"_Blaine_!" Kurt gasped. "Oh, Blaine, _please_ don't be mad at me. _Please_, Blainey? Oh, you're mad at me! No! _Blaine_!"

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "I'm coming to get you."

"Wait." Kurt's voice was in a stage whisper, probably stealthily quiet to his own hears, but hilariously obvious to anyone who could be listening. "You can't. If you come here to pick me up then people will know we're dating and we'll get in trouble."

His hand fell back to his side. "Kurt, please tell me you're alone right now."

"Of course I am." Blaine breathed easier. "Everyone else is still in the basement."

"And where are you?"

"Bathroom. I thought I had to hurl but I didn't. And then I got here and I was like, 'Hey. I have to pee.' So I did."

Blaine would have laughed if he hadn't been so upset. "Right, well—"

"And then I started thinking about you."

"…okay?"

"And I decided that I really, really like sex."

This time Blaine simply rolled his eyes. "Kurt, you have to do something for me."

"Yeah?"

"Go get your things and then be outside Rachel's house in ten minutes, okay? I'll be there."

Blaine could hear a thump and the sound of the tap and then Kurt gave a weak, "M'kay."

As the curly-haired man hung up the phone, he sighed again. "I'm gonna kill him." And with that he grabbed his keys and raced out the door.

-0-

Blaine found that the hardest thing about drunken Kurt was getting him to keep his clothes on.

It was a relatively nice surprise—despite the circumstances—to find him flushed and almost shirtless, with his lips, soft, pink, and open and holy crap, this boy was made for sex.

But that was only in the beginning.

Kurt crawled into the backseat of Blaine's car, curling up as the older man walked around to the driver's side.

"Blaine," he whined. "I can't see."

"Sit up."

"Tummy hurts. Too hot. Why is it so hot, Blaine?" And then he was tugging off his shirt and kicking off his shoes. "Everything's all shaky. Why is everything moving?"

"I'm driving."

"It's _so hot_… I'm taking off my pants."

"Kurt—keep your clothes on." There was a grunt from the backseat and then a thump. "Kurt?"

"I'm good. Just fell over." Kurt brought himself back onto the seat and successfully kicked off his jeans. "Are you swaying?"

"No. You are."

Kurt forced his spine straight and tried to clear his thoughts. No dice. "You're wearing too many clothes."

"You're not wearing enough."

"I wasn't hearing any complaints like that last night." Kurt laughed. 'How does that song go? '_If you want my body and you think I'm sexy, c'mon, sugar, let me know. If you really need me, just reach out and touch me. C'mon, honey, tell me so._'" He giggled, falling onto his side. "Blaine. I tipped over."

The curly-haired man closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a slow, calming breath. "Just stay there. We're almost home."

"Mm, home. I like the sound of that. One day, we'll have a real home and kids and a beautiful kitchen and a fantastic bed and all we'll ever do is have sex—"

"We're here, Kurt."

Kurt made a soft noise, smiling just barely as he waiting for Blaine to open his door. When he heard the click and Blaine's exasperated sigh, he threw out his arms. "Carry me."

"No way, buddy—let's go."

Blaine helped the inebriated boy out of the car but the second the fresh air hit him, he was on his knees, barfing out way more alcohol than could be healthy.

"Better?" Blaine said softly after a moment.

"Not quite. Gimme a second."

After a few more minutes, he was all right to stand up again and Blaine helped him into his clothes before leading him into the building, one hand on his hip and the other clutching his boots.

"You're strong," Kurt sighed wistfully, leaning his face into Blaine's neck as they stumbled through his front door.

"You're so, so drunk. You underestimate how truly pissed I am about this. When you wake up tomorrow, we are having a serious conversation about underage drinking and responsibility. And the next time you go to a party—"

"Oh, pfft, you sound like an old man. Why don't you have fun, Blainers?" Kurt swung around, pressing Blaine against the door. "We should have fun tonight, don't ya think?" Slipping one leg between Blaine's, he leaned against him, sealing their mouths together.

It was a forceful kiss and Blaine had to grab onto Kurt's shoulders to push him back. "It figures you would be a horny drunk."

"Horny and slutty."

"Right—of course." Blaine spun him around and pushed him towards his bedroom. "Go lie down and go to sleep. I'll take the couch."

Grumbling, Kurt stomped towards Blaine's bedroom and, just for good measure, tossed his shirt out into the living room. "Good_night_, Blaine. I'll just be in your bed. _Alone. Naked._"

"Great—sleep well."

"I hate you."

"Goodnight, Kurt."

-0-

The first time Kurt woke up, he groaned, desperately attempting to dull the thumping in his head. Everything was too loud, too sensitive. He could hear the soft footsteps entering the room as if they were taps on a base drum.

"Good morning."

He pressed the pillow over his ears. "Don't," he whispered. "No. No words. Shh…"

"Pills," Blaine said softly. "Swallow and sleep. Come get me when you wake up again."

The second time waking up was much, much better. Things were cleared, his head didn't hurt as much, his mouth felt less like it was stuffed with cotton, and he felt reasonably more alive, even though he still ached everywhere. Blaine's wonderful sheets were pulled up to his ribs and his hair was probably a mess, but other than that, he felt… Well, he felt like an idiot. He was never, never getting drunk again.

"Blaine," he said softly, his throat dry and his voice scratchy. "_Blaaaaine_."

In an instant, his boyfriend was at the foot of the bed, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, arms crossed across his chest. "You look like crap."

"Love you too, sweetie."

"How are you feeling?"

"Uh, y'know. Better. But still kind of like my whole body got hit by a truck." He fidgeted for a moment under the sheets, trying to get comfortable.

"Not that I wouldn't love to have you here all day, but, do you have a plan for getting home? Do you need me to take you back to Rachel's? Or home? I didn't see your car when I picked you up last night."

"Oh, uh, yeah. My dad took my car to his shop." Kurt buried his face in Blaine's pillow, suddenly very aware of the fact that he was naked and the sheet was not doing its job of covering certain things. He hesitated a moment before mumbling, "You're staring at my ass, aren't you?"

"It's kind of hard not to."

Kurt rolled over and when Blaine's eyes widened and lips quirked up, he gathered the sheet around his hips. "I don't seem to recall you being this forthcoming with my advances last night."

"Because you were drunk and vulnerable and didn't know what you were saying last night. Speaking of which."

"The lusty moment's gone now, huh?" Kurt sighed as Blaine's eyes went back to normal—or as normal as perfection could be.

"Yes. Because you—a 17 year old kid—"

"_I am not a child!_" he shouted, sitting up.

"—went out and got _drunk_ for the _hell of it_!"

"It wasn't for the hell of it!"

"So why would you do it?"

"Some idiots spray painted 'fag' on my car!"

And just that like, the room was completely silent. Blaine wanted to say something, anything but… What would he say?

"And 'go die,'" Kurt continued more calmly. "And more. And so, yeah, last night I went and had a few drinks with my friends and partied too hard and danced to stupid music and was an idiot, but I have a pretty good reason, don't you think?"

Blaine's voice was soft, almost too soft for Kurt to hear, when he said, "Why didn't you call me?"

"Because." His voice was short and practically dripping with misdirected acid. "You constantly pity me and I'm sick of it! I'm practically an adult. I'm a responsible person, Blaine. I was going to stay at Rachel's house—no one was planning on driving! All of… Everything that's happened over the last week, over the last year, since forever, it sucks, yes, but you don't have to protect me. That is not your job. You are not my father and I am not some charity case and we've _covered_ this, Blaine! Stop feeling bad for me!"

"I worry about you!"

"Well, stop!"

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because I love you! And when people love each other they worry! They get too emotional and they care too much and _dammit_, Kurt, I love you more than I've ever loved everybody and you don't understand what it's like to have to watch the person you love go through every day getting harassed and feeling powerless against it." He closed his eyes for a moment as his chest rose and fell heavily. When he spoke again, his voice was thick as if he was trying not to cry. "Figgins won't believe me unless I bring proof. None of the kids at school will notice. You won't tell your glee club friends and you won't let me tell them. So I'm begging you, Kurt." He snatched up Kurt's hands, eyes pleading. "Tell me what I need to do so that I can stop worrying. Tell me exactly what to do so that I can know you will be safe at that school."

"…trust me," he offered weakly.

"But you won't tell anyone and _that's not okay_. These kids—what they're doing to you—it is awful and you know it and everyone knows it and so we have to tell someone!"

Kurt shook his head. "N-no. It's just one more year, it's just—"

And then Blaine was off the bed pacing. "Kurt…" More pacing. More fuming. Kurt could practically hear his brainwaves, feeling the anger radiating. And then he stopped. He turned on his heel, facing the boy in his bed. "I can't do this."

"This? You mean… Us?"

"Kurt, I cannot sit idly by anymore. I thought it would go away. Foolishly, I figured you'd be safe eventually, that Karofsky would stop, but he won't."

"Blaine, what are you saying?"

"I'm not giving you an option anymore—talk to Figgins or I will."

"But I can't just out him—"

"You don't have to! Just… Do something! Just because you complain that he's harassing you doesn't mean you have to tell everyone that the idiot k…" Blaine's hands made fists as he sucked in a shaky breath. He didn't like to think about the bully stealing Kurt's first kiss.

Kurt sat there for a moment, just blinking, thinking. Either way, he lost. There was just no way out. Looking up at Blaine, at the man he loved, Kurt knew that he wasn't bluffing. And there was no way he wasn't going to get his ass kicked by Karofksy.

"Kurt?"

"You love me," Kurt said softly. "You want me around. So don't tell Figgins."

It was an empty threat but it hit hard. There was a flicker, a very brief moment, when Blaine's angry expression fell away and all that remained was sadness. When Kurt blinked, it was gone. "Your safety is the most important thing to me." Blaine's voice was even, controlled. It sounded like it took a lot of effort to get it that way. "If you're going to break up with me for wanting to take care of you… Fine." He looked pained. "Then break up with me. But at least you'll be safe."

"_But I won't_!" Kurt cried, already feeling the sting of tears welling up. "If you tell, Karofsky will know that I told! He'll _kill_ me, Blaine!"

"No. No, he won't. I'll take care of you, Kurt. Your dad—hell, let's tell your dad! Your dad can take care of you too. I bet if he knew, you wouldn't even be at that damn school! Or, even better, Karofsky would be expelled and you could feel safe—you shouldn't have to be frightened. You shouldn't be scared to go to school and you shouldn't be afraid to _live!_"

Kurt launched himself off the bed and into Blaine's arms, kissing him harshly. Anger, sadness, desire, love, everything Kurt needed to say but couldn't, it went into that kiss. When he pulled back, his hands on Blaine's face, he whispered, "I'm not. I'm not afraid. Because I have _you_."

Blaine smiled softly. "So we tell Figgins tomorrow."

He barely hesitated for a moment, just to double check. Yeah. Yes. He could do this. He could handle anything as long as Blaine was there. At least…he was pretty sure…

"Kurt?"

He nodded, swallowing thickly. "We tell Figgins tomorrow."

**A/N: In other news, I truly, truly love canon!Karofsky. Tonight's episode blew my mind, asdfghjklkjhgfdsa. Sorry for the delayed update… I have band every weekend. Lame.**

**Thanks for reading, tell me what you thought!**

**Love,**

**E. M. Zeray**

**Wishingonalightningbolt[dot]tumblr[dot]com**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: First of all, I'm SO, SO, SO sorry for how long this has taken. Like you really don't even know how sorry I am. But here it is now! And so, yes, the longest chapter of this story so far and basically all Klaine and I apologize right now for how Sue is written here. She's really not my strongest character and so I got lazy.**

The apartment was dark when Blaine got home. It wasn't too late, just past 8:40, but his work was done for the evening, he'd had dinner, and he was ready to settle into bed with a book until he was too tired to keep his eyes open.

He left his keys in the porcelain bowl next to the front door. He kicked off his shoes, left his jacket hanging over the couch, and started undoing his tie as he walked to his bedroom. He was humming softly, a tune from a Disney film he hadn't seen in years and suddenly had the urge to watch again, and when he was inside his bedroom his humming switched to singing. He still remembered the words.

The tie came off and fell on top of his dresser. Next the socks were slid off of his feet and into the hamper. The button-down fell off his shoulders, sliding across his skin just softly enough that it made him think of soft hands and lips dancing across his back and making him shiver as he pressed his face into his pillows and moaned. He grinned in the darkness. Give him any subject and, without fail, he could connect it to Kurt.

The shirt joined the socks and Blaine got to work on his belt. It made a pleasant noise as it ran through the loops of his dark wash jeans. He hung it up on its hook next to his closet dutifully, not sparing it a second glance as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. They went into the hamper as well.

Then he pulled navy blue pajama bottoms and a white cotton T-shirt from a drawer, dressing lazily. He still hadn't turned any lights on and the only illumination in the room was from the moonlight. It gave everything a kind of romantic, hazy, moonlight glow. Everything looked blue.

Blaine sighed, turning to walk back into the living room. It had been a week since Rachel's party, since the fiasco that was a heavily intoxicated Kurt Hummel, since they'd made the deal to sit down with Figgins and talk about what was happening to Kurt at school. Since that day, they hadn't been able to be alone together once. School got in the way for both of them. Reports were due to OSU, Kurt had a million and one projects or papers to work on with the added stress of glee club, trying to write an original song, and normal homework. It just wasn't working out.

Needless to say, they hadn't been in to see the principal yet and Blaine was starting to worry that Kurt was avoiding it.

Back in the living room, he picked up his shoulder bag from where he had left it next to his jacket and hoisted it onto the kitchen counter a few feet away. He pulled his phone, a few folders, a notebook, a reading book, and his glasses from it before making his way back to his room.

The second he switched the light on, a spell was broken. He paused there in the doorway as if his body needed to adjust, as if he wasn't used to his home, but he chalked the sensation up to exhaustion and went about doing the things he needed to.

His phone went to its charger on his side table. The folders and notebook went to his desk on the opposite wall. His glasses, like always, sat on the bathroom counter so that he could slide them on after his shower in the morning when his eyes needed them the most.

He had just left the bathroom when he heard the faint knock-knock-knock on his door.

If the young and attractive, not to mention single (as she often liked to point out), Ida Reynolds from next door hadn't constantly been calling on him to help her lift something, move something, find something, fix something, he would have thought it peculiar that someone was at his door at such an impolite hour—it was 9 o'clock now—but as it was, he didn't bat an eye before shuffling to the door and pulling it open.

Because Blaine had been expecting the pretty redhead it was a shock to find an angelic brunette in his hallway. A shock, but not a disappointing one.

"Hey," Kurt breathed, smiling hugely.

"Hi."

"Can I come in?"

Blaine licked his lips, squirming awkwardly. "You shouldn't."

"My dad thinks I'm out—"

"Out with Rachel," Blaine finished for him. "Yeah. He always does."

That was the thing that had really been bothering him lately. Kurt couldn't just tell his father, "I'm off to my boyfriend's place; I promise to be home before curfew," just like Blaine couldn't tell his friends, "I can't go with you guys tonight, I have a date with my boyfriend but I'll see you tomorrow." They were each other's secret. And it sucked.

"I miss you."

"I know. Me too."

Kurt took a step forward. "I have an hour and a half. Close enough at least."

"You should go home, Kurt. It's a school night."

"Blaine."

He swallowed audibly.

"Please?"

"Kurt—"

"Hour and 28 minutes."

"Oh, Lord, I…" He ran a hand through his messy, un-gelled hair. "C'mon in."

-0-

The lights were off again a little under an hour later. The spell had returned. Everything was calm and blue and beautiful. And Blaine didn't want it any other way. They were curled up in bed together, both of them still breathing a little funny, and Kurt laughed softly at something he must have been thinking before squirming into the mattress and pulling the sheet up around them.

"Regionals is next weekend," Blaine muttered into Kurt's shoulder.

The brunette made a humming noise in the back of his throat. He sounded half asleep.

"Kurt?"

"Mm."

"You alive?"

Sighing, Kurt shifted so that they were facing each other. Blaine's hair was rumpled and a disaster of curls, his eyes clear and bright, mouth still slightly bruised, and that hickey on his collarbone—Kurt was so damn proud of himself.

"I said Regionals—"

"I know," Kurt breathed. "I heard you. How is your song with Rachel going?"

Blaine chuckled. "Oh, you know," he said as he reached forward to trail his fingertips down his boyfriend's bare arm, "horribly." At Kurt's guffaw, he continued. "She tried to write a song about her headband. And then she wanted to explore the emotional trauma that was her lack of a sibling and…" He closed his eyes. "How many times can you find polite ways to say no before you just bite someone's head off?"

"Just talk to her." Kurt scooted subtly closer. His breath was warm on Blaine's face. Blaine opened his eyes to explore the multicolored ones before him and he was so lost in them that he almost missed hearing Kurt say, "She just needs to find something more deeply connected to her feelings. Encourage her to write a song about my idiot stepbrother. That might work."

"We'll see. At this point, I'll try anything." With one last kiss to Kurt's shoulder, Blaine threw the sheet off of his hips, lunging out of bed. "I'm gonna jump in the shower. Don't you have to be getting home?"

"Curfew's not for a while longer," Kurt called as Blaine disappeared into the bathroom. "I could join you."

"Not if you plan on getting home in time," Blaine sing-songed back.

Faintly, Kurt could hear the water starting, the door sliding, and wet plops on tile that were Blaine's feet, and he had just made up his mind to follow his boyfriend into the shower whether he approved or not when Blaine's phone buzzed.

Just once. A text.

Kurt ignored it in favor of slipping out from between the sheets to sneak a peek at a wet and soapy Blaine. He was in the bathroom doorway when he heard the buzz again.

"We're going to see Figgins tomorrow for real this time, right?" Blaine muttered, eyes closed as he rubbed shampoo into his hair.

Kurt grinned. Blaine could _sense_ he was there. It made things happen in his stomach. Funny, fluffy, tingly things.

"Kurt?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "For real. I'm sorry I've been avoiding it, it's just—"

"I know. Trust me. But tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Kurt agreed.

He took a step into the bathroom. Blaine's eyes flew open. "Go," he said as he pointed. "Get dressed."

Kurt almost argued but at the take-no-prisoners look in Blaine's eyes he knew that there was no use tonight. Huffing indignantly, he turned and half-stomped back to the bed to tug on his jeans. That's when he happened to glance at Blaine's phone screen.

_5 new messages._

His hand twitched.

He couldn't. That was an invasion of Blaine's privacy. It was probably just a friend of his… And that was another sore spot. Kurt had never met any of his own boyfriend's friends.

Just a peak wouldn't hurt… Right?

Hurriedly, he snatched up the phone. All of the new messages seemed to be from the same person, a name that Kurt didn't recognize.

_(9:54)_

_I really enjoyed meeting you yesterday._

Harmless enough, Kurt figured. A new friend, maybe even a colleague.

_(9:55)_

_Do you want to meet up again? Maybe grab a drink? Dinner?_

Still nothing to worry about. Maybe this guy wasn't even gay.

_(9:57)_

_There's this bar in W. Lima I think you'd like. Called Scandals._

Kurt's jaw clenched.

_(9:57)_

_And before you say anything, I have a fake ID and I'm a safe drinker. I always have a designated driver take me home with him;)_

Kurt's blood boiled. Not only was this dude gay, he was underage—_just like him _which frankly really made him worry about what kind of fetishes Blaine had—and he was _flirting_ with _Blaine_.

_(9:58)_

_Call me. I can't wait to see you again._

In shock, Kurt placed the phone back on the nightstand, jeans only pulled half-way up his thighs, and just stared at it. The spell was broken when Blaine padded back into his bedroom and froze.

"Kurt? Everything okay?"

Kurt looked up slowly. His mouth was dry. So quiet that Blaine could barely hear him but calm and steady enough that there was no way he could miss it, Kurt asked, "Who's Sebastian?"

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed. "Sebastian? He's a Warbler at Dalton. He looked me up for some music advice, trying to get into Julliard next year—"

"Bullshit," Kurt hissed. He stood, yanking his jeans on all the way and scrambling around with stinging eyes to try to find his other clothes.

"What? Why would I lie to you?"

Undershirt on, Kurt laughed humorlessly. He felt shaky, like he didn't know he fit in his body, and then he was suddenly too aware of his environment, of his scattered clothes, of his mostly naked boyfriend standing feet away from him. After swallowing tightly, he managed to say, "If you want to be with someone else, if you're bored or something, you don't have to go behind my back—"

"What the hell are you talking about? He's just some kid—"

"I was 'just some kid' once." He was almost fully dressed, searching desperately for his boots and refusing to meet Blaine's eyes. "If you have some younger guy or, better yet, a desperate, worshipping school boy fetish—"

"Will you shut up for one second?" Blaine grabbed Kurt's wrists and pulled their chests flush together. "Look at me. Hey." Kurt was stubborn. His eyes closed, his wrists squirmed, but Blaine went to his tiptoes, brushing his nose against Kurt's. "Hey, listen to me, okay? We've done this before. Gotten angry, started fights, stormed out upset because we weren't being rational—so how about you sit down and let me tell you who Sebastian is and why you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

Kurt's eyelids lifted cautiously. When his gaze fell on Blaine's eyes, he could tell that Blaine was being sincere. He hadn't seen the texts yet either so there was no way that he was encouraging their existence. Probably.

Blaine led him to the bed again, sitting next to him, towel around his waist and hair still dripping onto his shoulders. Wordlessly, he helped Kurt remove his jacket.

"First of all," he began, squeezing Kurt's hand, "you know I'm madly in love with you. We wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't. So just put every thought of me cheating on you out of your pretty little head. Okay?" Kurt nodded shortly. He was staring at his hand entwined with Blaine's, pale and tan fingers crossed together, soft and callused brushing against each other. "Next, you need to know why I was even over at Dalton in the first place."

Kurt's head snapped up. "You do realize that we'll be competing against them, right? If you've gained any knowledge about their songs for Regionals—"

"I wouldn't tell you anyway because that's cheating." Smirking, he dropped a tender kiss to Kurt's cheek. "But I was over there because… I've been thinking about leaving McKinley."

The hand in Blaine's disappeared in an instant. "_What?_"

"If I left," he hurried to explain, "if I finished up my hours at a different school, this wouldn't be so…wrong. We could be together. We could go out on real dates, you could meet my friends—hell, I could meet your parents."

"You've met my dad."

"For a brief, two-minute period when he came to pick you up and you were still in the classroom. Doesn't really count."

"He liked you, you know. Told me so. Said that he thought you were a very distinguished, smart young man—he was glad to see I was getting an education not only from old, half-blind teachers who can't see the board or their textbooks properly enough to teach the lesson."

Blaine arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Okay, he didn't say all that but he_ did_ say that he thought you were distinguished." Kurt leaned into him. "Don't leave."

"Would you rather we have to keep hiding this?" Blaine sighed. His arms went around Kurt, holding him tightly. "Us? Sneaking around, lying, never able to really be together? That's hardly my idea of romance—and I love being with you, I really, really do. And so I want to be with you for a long time which means meeting the family and the friends and being able to holds hands and go have dinner in town where we could get sighted by someone we know and they'd walk over and say hi." He breathed a heavy sigh into Kurt's neck. "I want you to be able to announce to your friends that you have a boyfriend. I want to be able to tell my friends everything about you. Don't you?"

"I don't care. I don't care about anything except you. But…" And this was the part that weighed too heavily on Kurt's heart, that made him ache and long and wish he didn't feel so strongly. "But if going will make you happy, okay. I want you to be happy."

"Oh, Kurt."

Blaine leaned back to look at Kurt's face, still perfectly beautiful but downtrodden with a look of guilt. He kissed Kurt softly, coercing his lips apart, arms moving from around the lithe body so that his hands could find Kurt's.

When he pulled away, he whispered, "I love you more than anything in the world."

They sat there for a moment, winding down, before Kurt squeezed his hands and stood again. Silently, he picked his jacket up off the bed. Blaine's phone was lying right underneath it. Kurt knew rationally that Blaine was going to get hit on. He was attractive, funny, witty, smart, sang like a dream—who wouldn't want him? But that didn't make it hurt any less.

As if Blaine could sense his boyfriend's thoughts, he said, "Sebastian isn't Christian, Kurt."

"What does his religion have to do with anything?" he mumbled.

"No, I…" Blaine laughed softly. "I mean he's not Christian Maddox. He's not my ex. He's not anyone I've ever had feelings for. And he's no one I will have feelings for in the future. Okay?"

"Well he seems to think differently. And he's pretty forward about it too." Kurt nodded towards the phone. "Read the texts. And then think about what going to Dalton means." He kissed the top of Blaine's head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you, Kurt."

"Love you too, Blaine."

-0-

It was probably the thing that he was expecting the absolute least, Kurt realized. Of course, he hadn't really been expecting anything other than Figgins sitting behind that desk as usual, telling him that if there was no evidence than nothing could be done and peacefully removing him and Blaine from his office. He'd figured, when he'd given it a little more thought, that the most unrealistic thing to happen would be Figgins saying he would look into it. He should've been more prepared.

"Porcelain, welcome to my new office."

Kurt halted in the doorway, Blaine's chest running into his back. None other than Sue Sylvester was sitting behind the principal's desk, looking far too pleased with herself. She barely gestured him forward and, numbly, he moved to sit in one of the two chairs placed right in front of her big, wooden desk.

She sent a glare of confusion at Blaine. "What's with the young Burt Reynolds?"

Blaine, who had looked slightly perturbed when he'd first entered, then appeared a bit pleased with himself and proceeded to step completely into the office and close the door behind himself.

"My name is Bl—"

"I don't care," she cut him off. "Porcelain, what can I do for you?"

Kurt wasn't quite sure where to start. He glanced at Blaine.

"Excuse me, Ms. Sylvester," Blaine cut in as he sat down next to Kurt, "but where's Principal Figgins?"

"Well, Other Gay,"—at this Blaine frowned hesitantly and looked to Kurt to silently ask him if she was homophobic and if they had something to worry about—"our dear old Figgins has caught quite a nasty case of a very rare and very life-threatening disease called monkey flu so I'm afraid I'll be taking over in his absence. Now." She looked at Kurt. "When did they start letting 24-year-olds go back to high school?"

"I'm 22. And I'm a TA."

Coach Sylvester didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken. "His hair is atrocious. He's like a mini Schuester."

"Coach—" Kurt began.

"If this is about you joining the Cheerios again, I'm all for it. But we might have a problem if your dwarf of a boyfriend wants to join too."

"He's not my boyfriend," Kurt squeaked.

"Ms. Sylvester," Blaine cut in, "we just came to talk to Figgins… Or I guess we came to talk to you about David Karofsky. He's been harassing Kurt just because of his sexuality."

Sue examined Kurt with a somber expression. "Has he hit you?"

"No. Not… Not yet. Mostly he just…terrifies me. Shoves me into lockers. Pushes me."

"I can't punish a kid for scaring you. And no one ever got in trouble for shoving someone. Unless you can bring me evidence that this kid is physically assaulting you…I'm afraid I can't do anything about it." She glanced at Blaine. "You seen any of this happen, Reynolds?"

Blaine snapped to attention, clearing his throat. "I've seen Karofsky dump a slushie over his head. Seen him pass Kurt in the halls and glare at him. Kurt's…shaken. Dismayed. He's scared to be around him."

Honestly, Blaine didn't know what the hell he had been expecting. He figured it wouldn't do much good, he knew how Figgins was—although that no longer mattered since he wasn't there—and how the school was, how the town was, how the state was. At most, Karofsky would be called in and given a warning. But the look on Sue Sylvester's face said that even less than that was possible.

"Porcelain, you come to me the second he touches you, okay? Until then, stick to your mouth-breathing club of misfits and your boyfriend if you feel threatened."

Blaine said, "I'm not his boyfriend," at the exact same time Kurt announced once more, quite a bit too loudly, "He's not my boyfriend!" and Sue couldn't even blink before the young man was sighing and leaving the office, and Blaine, behind him.

Within seconds, Blaine was chasing after him. The hallways were just beginning to get crowded—the bell that announced the beginning of first period was going to sound any second which meant that both of them had better hurry to class or risk their asses—but Blaine found him easily, stopping him with a hand on his elbow.

"Kurt."

"I told you," Kurt said, his voice high and thin as he tried not to cry. "It's pointless. God, I don't even know why I'm crying." He laughed dryly, reaching up to brush away a traitorous tear. "I expected this. I expected less than this. But I… I don't know. I guess, when we were actually in there, I started getting my hopes up. No more being afraid. No more constantly worrying if he's going to turn the corner and run into me."

For a moment, Blaine forgot where they were. He held onto Kurt's arms, looking him straight in eye. "Tell me what you want from me. Right now. What can I do to help?"

"You've done everything."

"You hate our secrets as much as I do, Kurt. I know you do. And it's just another thing to worry about so tell me right now—what do I have to do so that I can help you? Should I go to Dalton? Should _you_ go to Dalton?"

Kurt shook his head immediately. "We can't afford it. Besides, glee club…"

"Do we need to spend time…apart? Maybe I can TA for another teacher or—"

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters." And with that Kurt flung his arms around Blaine, burying his face in his neck. "We can't change anything."

Blaine stood there for a while, just holding him. His eyes were closed and he leaned his head against Kurt's. As far as he was concerned, they were the only two people in the entire world.

So when they pulled away from the hug, it felt natural to lean back in.

It felt natural to hold onto Kurt's hips and tilt his head just so.

There was nothing wrong with him pressing their foreheads together and cupping Kurt's cheek, brushing a thumb through a tear track.

Everything was perfectly fine as that hand went from Kurt's cheek to the back of his head.

And they were still alone, in private, hidden away, when they kissed.

Except that they weren't.

The second the bell sounded, they both jumped apart as if they had been electrocuted. Shocked, stunned, horrified, they stood there just staring at each other. Others were doing the same. It was bad enough that Blaine was older, an employee of the school, but the fact that he was gay? That he was kissing another male? Forget it. He was, in short, totally and completely screwed.

Kurt was looking at him with dread, with fright, almost with anger. But before Blaine could say anything—even though he wasn't sure what it was he would say—Kurt was gone, racing past him and out the front door.

Shit.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!**

**Love,**

**E. M. Zeray**

**wishingonlightningbolt DOT tumblr DOT com**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing response to the last chapter and the story in general! I'm unbelievably glad that you guys are enjoying it! So, here is the next chapter. It picks up right at the end of the previous one and…yeah. And there are only two more chapters to go after this, just so you know.**

**Review to let me know what you think!**

The second Kurt was gone, Blaine's heart started being too loud in his ears. Everyone—literally everyone—in the hallway was looking at him. People who had entered the hall to get to their class or use the staircase or were even just arriving late were quickly informed of the events that had just occurred and there wasn't a single eye in the crowd that wasn't on him.

So it wasn't really a hard decision.

Option a) Stay. Go to class. Brush it off as a kid trying to put the moves on him. Lie. And break Kurt's heart as well as his own.

Or option b) Follow him. Hold him. Comfort him. Love him.

Ignoring the coughs of names, of insults, of swear words and jibes, Blaine wormed his way through the teenage bodies and out the front door, towards Kurt.

-0-

Distantly, Kurt could hear footsteps—fast and heavy—behind him. They had no rhythm, no set pace, and whoever they belonged to was faltering in his speed every few steps. He was pushing hard. Racing fast to catch up with Kurt. And that left one option.

"Kurt!" Blaine shouted.

He kept running, bag at his side bouncing against his thigh, until he reached his car. His hands were shaking violently as he fumbled with his key and tried to get the Navigator unlocked before Blaine reached him. The key chain fell though and he held his hands to his face, leaning against the car door by his forearms, stomach, and thighs as he sobbed.

"Kurt."

Blaine was there, next to him, behind him, chest against his back, breathing across his collarbone.

"Kurt," he said again. "Stop."

He was still shaking, still crying, but he didn't have to lift his face out of his hands to know that Blaine was bending down to pick up his keys. He could faintly hear the snap of his bag clasp as it was opened and then the shift of the weight as Blaine worked the strap off of Kurt's shoulder and took it onto his own. The keys slid inside of it.

"C'mon. Let's take my car. C'mon."

There was a far corner of his mind that wanted him to fight against Blaine's grasp, that wanted to just get in his car and sob until he didn't have any tears left so that he could drive home without being blinded by the saltwater in his eyes—but that corner was nothing compared to the rest of him. He wanted to be held, to be comforted, to be kissed and touched and loved because there was no point in hiding anymore. Everything had gone to shit.

"Kurt."

His voice was trapped, thick in his throat and silent when he tried to force it out. Heaving another great sob, he turned and let Blaine lead him to the other car.

Once there, buckled into the front, his bag and Blaine's at his feet, staring at his hands in his lap as his tears fell less frequently but his body still shuddered with heavy sobs, he felt like everything was settling. The worst was yet to come, but that was no use crying over. Not yet.

It took a few more minutes—Blaine was silent the whole time, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the lot—for him to completely stop crying, for him to breathe a little steadier and to be able to blink away the tears so that he could see.

The shock had mostly worn off.

It was out now. Everyone would know in a matter of hours that the resident queer of McKinley High had been kissed in the middle of the main hall right before first period that fateful Friday morning by none other than the college student that was Madame Henri's hunky TA. Not only was it a scandal because of the fact that, hey, they were both dudes, but because everyone knew Blaine. He was charming, polite, helpful, and when Madame Henri left right before lunch—she didn't teach a fourth period and fifth period was her conference time—he was found helping out any other teacher that needed it. Everyone in the school knew who he was. And now they knew that he was gay and probably managed to speculate that he was in a relationship with Kurt if the kiss and the whole running after him thing was any indication.

It wouldn't be long before Finn knew. Then Mr. Schue would hear about it. He would go to Sue or maybe bypass her completely and talk to Figgins. Who knew? Maybe the dean. Maybe the school board. Maybe someone would even tell his dad.

The thought made terror squeeze at his heart.

"Are you okay?" Blaine whispered.

He sniffed, wiping a few left-over tears away with the back of his hand. "Yeah. Fine now."

"I… I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He licked his lips. His voice was hoarse and thick. "I moved first, I kissed you, I was the one who was stupid enough to forget where we were…"

"Kurt, please. Don't start placing blame on yourself. Let's just…forget about it for now. Can we? Please?"

Kurt nodded, not really caring that Blaine wasn't looking at him, and scooted down in the chair before closing his eyes. He was suddenly weary from crying and the intense emotional rollercoaster he'd just been on and before he knew it, a horn honk from another car blasted him awake.

Blaine glanced at him briefly. "It's been about twenty-five minutes. I'm just…wandering. I don't really, um, know where to go. We can go back to mine or I can take you home or—"

"No. Not home. I… Don't take me anywhere. Just drive."

If Blaine was confused by the request, he didn't show it. Instead, he simply nodded. They were driving aimlessly around a few acres stuffed with homes, just a few blocks from Kurt's house actually, but Blaine started veering away in the opposite direction and back onto bigger streets.

As Kurt sat up straight and continued waking up, there was an eerie silence that blanketed the car. He had to break it.

"What now?" Kurt asked, blinking at the road in front of them. It was littered lightly with people driving to work or to the grocery store or just around town and it made him nervous for a reason he couldn't quite place.

And then he could.

That feeling from earlier was back—the worry, the fear, the anxiety. It felt like everybody was staring at him. Like everybody knew. He felt open, vulnerable, on the spot and, worse, even more like a victim than he ever had in his life.

"Now," Blaine sighed, "we talk."

"Talk," Kurt repeated numbly because really? After all of that Blaine wanted to just…talk? Wasn't there anything they could do? Or better yet, couldn't they just go somewhere and be with each other? Why did they have to analyze it, take it apart? Why couldn't they just forget it? Then again, Kurt wasn't sure he could.

Blaine gave a curt nod. "Talk."

"About what exactly?"

"About what it means. About what we're going to have to do now." He glanced at Kurt, who was wringing his hands in his lap and worrying his lower lip with his teeth. "I'd made plans to visit OSU campus today. I was going to drive up there right after third period, request a transfer to Dalton. I still can but I'll have to take you back to school so you can get your car—"

"I'll call Finn and ask him to drive it back home. I don't want to go back there—not today."

"Okay." Silence settled over the car. Blaine just kept driving, taking a slow left to avoid the entrance to suburbia and continue driving around the town. And then Kurt just couldn't pay attention anymore. He didn't care where they were going as long as it was away. Far, far away.

He closed his eyes, sliding down in his seat once more. "Blaine," he sighed.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you follow me?"

When it was silent a moment, Kurt opened his eyes. Blaine showed no sign of having heard him but just when Kurt was about to ask again, he said plainly, "I told you." With a shrug and a quick, second-long glance at Kurt, he continued, "I'll always run after you."

A little later, after they'd exhausted every major road around them, they wound up at the public library. Specifically, the back parking lot of the library—the far back spot on the back parking lot. For a while they just sat there, unmoving, and then they began to talk.

Blaine started.

"By now the whole school must know."

The clock on the dash read 9:48. It was almost third period. People would have texted, spoken in the halls, maybe even talked about it on Facebook. The whole school—his teachers, his friends, his bullies—would know that he had been kissed by his college-age boyfriend and had run out of the building in fear.

"Kurt?"

"Rachel texted me." He was staring down at his phone, desperate for somewhere else to look besides at Blaine. Looking at the man made his chest ache. He'd ruined everything. "I… Blaine…"

"What? What's wrong?"

Desperately, he shook his head. No, no, _no_—he would _not_ start crying again, _no_! "I'm sorry."

"What the hell for?"

"I've been promising since day one that I would be careful—that we wouldn't get caught and no one had to know and we'd be okay. And I broke that promise today and now everything's gone to shit." With shaking hands, he roughly wiped away a few tears. "The transfer to Dalton won't even matter now. It'll look like an escape, like you're trying to save yourself."

"I'm trying to save _us_." He reached across the middle console, grabbing Kurt's hand—it was shaking horribly and his phone had fallen onto the floor and come to rest between his feet—and bringing it to his own chest to hold it in his hands. "Kurt, look at me." He did. His eyes were glistening with the tears still unshed and his cheeks were flushed and the sheer intensity of how broken he looked made Blaine's heart break into a million pieces. "I'll do whatever I have to so that we can be together, okay? I love you. And I told you, stop blaming yourself. You didn't do anything wrong." His thumbs stroked over the skin of Kurt's hand. "What did the text say?"

"That Finn knows. He heard about us a few minutes ago. No doubt he'll be calling any minute. Along with the rest of them."

Blaine sighed. "Kurt—"

"It's okay." A quick kiss, chaste and sweet and nothing more than reassurance, but it worked and Blaine smiled. "We'll get through it."

"Yeah. We will."

"But… First things first. If Finn knows, there's no way he's not going to tell my dad."

Blaine looked appropriately terrified but didn't do anything except give a slight nod.

"And if he's going to find out anyway…"

"You'd rather it come from you."

Kurt nodded weakly. "Yes."

That was one of the things Blaine admired most about him. He wasn't always honest, but when it counted, he cared about his relationship with his dad more than anything else. Blaine considered him to be a very lucky kid—his own father did everything except kick him out of the house when he found out Blaine was gay. They would never have a conversation about anything other than school. Blaine never would have admitted to be dating someone, let alone actually bring that person to meet him.

"Will you come with me?"

"If you want me to."

"I'll always want you next to me."

With a smile, Blaine leaned in for another kiss. "And I'll always be here."

-0-

The garage was filled with the clattering of wrenches, bolts, and tires flopping to the ground. Cans of oil, brushes, and the occasional screwdriver, could be heard being kicked across the concrete floor. The _click-click-clicks_ of cars being jacked up was immediately to Kurt's right as he entered Hummel's Tires and Lube. The main desk was to his right, the office in front of him, and more stations occupied with cars on either side.

Behind him, Blaine placed a hand on his lower back. "It's okay."

"How are you not as scared as I am?" he hissed. "You're the one he'll probably castrate."

"My boys have lived a good life. _I've_ lived a good life."

"Don't even joke—he owns guns."

"That would have been good to know earlier," Blaine said a bit gruffly. His hand fell from Kurt's back but instead of going to his side, he laced his fingers with Kurt's and tugged him farther into the garage. "But we're here now and we're going through with it. So where is he?"

Kurt's hand squirmed out of Blaine's as he noticed his father roll out from under a car, complete in grey coveralls and ball cap. Kurt gestured towards the man and Blaine let out a huge sigh.

"Well. Has he gotten bigger since the last time I've seen him?"

"Only around the middle."

"Kurt?" Mr. Hummel's voice rang out through the garage. "What are you doing here? Is it lunch hour already?"

Kurt froze, petrified by the sudden onslaught of panic as a million thoughts raced through his head. When he told his dad, exactly how angry would he be? Was it really a good idea to have brought Blaine along? Maybe it would only hurt. Maybe Burt would get so angry that he ordered Blaine to leave and never come back. Maybe, and this was the very real and very horrific possibility, he would forbid Kurt from ever seeing Blaine again.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," Blaine called, stepping forward. He was right next to Kurt then, shoulders brushing for barely a second, but that second was enough to get Kurt breathing again. "I'm Blaine—"

"Anderson, yeah? That French TA at McKinley."

"Yes, sir."

Burt nodded in greeting. "I would shake your hand but…" He chuckled, holding up a greasy rag before rubbing it absentmindedly over his filthy hands. Glancing between Kurt and Blaine, he asked, "Why aren't you at school?"

"There was a… An incident." Blaine looked to his boyfriend. "There's this kid that's been harassing him and—"

"Kurt." The young man, looking crestfallen and more than a little scared because where the hell was Blaine going with this anyway, nodded before his father could even ask for confirmation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell anyone," he said a bit defensively. "Blaine saw it happen. And so we went to the principal's office to tell Figgins except he wasn't there. Coach Sylvester was."

Blaine cleared his throat. "She said she can't do anything unless we have proof of physical harassment. Kurt ran out, obviously distressed, and I followed. We stopped in the hall and I…consoled him. His peers weren't well-receiving of the display."

"I panicked," Kurt muttered. "Ran out. Blaine followed me. And. Here we are. I don't want to go back on campus."

They both waited, looking at Burt anxiously. They couldn't tell exactly what was going through the older man's head at that moment but he certainly didn't look angry. Kurt thought that was promising enough to get him through the rest of the painful confession.

Burt crossed his arms, frowning just barely, as he said, "I know your school isn't the most happy, go lucky, gay-friendly place but two guys hugging really elicits that bad of a response?"

And there it was. The moment. The perfect setup.

Blaine mouth went open to explain but then he stopped. It was up to Kurt to tell him.

"It wasn't a hug," Kurt admitted quietly. His eyes didn't leave his father's even though Blaine could tell he wanted nothing more than to stare at the ground. "We kissed."

Mr. Hummel's expression didn't change but he turned to Blaine and the curly-haired man felt his heart race. "How old are you?"

"It's not his fault!" Kurt interrupted before Blaine could answer. "We—I—it's me. I've been lying to you. To everyone. For… For a while."

Without removing his gaze from Blaine, who appeared to be beginning to freak out just a little, Burt asked, "About what?"

"About everything. Blaine and I…" He took a deep breath. Regardless, his voice still came out shaky. "We've been dating. Since December." He noticed the tensing of the muscle on the side of his father's neck. "And I didn't think you'd approve—"

"Damn straight I don't approve!"

"—and we didn't want anyone at school knowing," he continued, pretending he hadn't heard the outburst, "but now they all do and… Everything's wrong."

At last, Burt tore his glare away from Blaine. "He's a _college_ student. He's gotta be drinking age—he must be at least four years older than you."

"He makes me happy," Kurt offered. "He makes me feel wanted and worth something and appreciated and attractive and I love him."

"You've been lying to me for months, Kurt. _Months_. Is he why you're always out? Why you keep having sleepovers with Rachel?" Without waiting for an answer, he held up his hands. "No. Wait. I don't… I don't want to know."

"I wanted to be honest with you, Dad—you have no idea how badly I wanted to be honest. I wanted to tell you everything about how excited I was when he kissed me and when we got together but I couldn't. And I wanted to be the one to tell you now. So you'd hear it from me. I… Dad, I'm so sorry—"

"You shouldn't have to apologize." He closed his eyes for barely a second before muttering, "You could have come to me, you know. About the jerk harassing you. Maybe he was the one that sprayed up your car. And you should have come to me about… About Blaine. It's not illegal. Neither of you can really get into any serious trouble for it. I… Aw, hell, Kurt, I would've appreciated your honesty at the time. Not three months later. I can't say I would've been happy about it but I would have been less upset than I am now, knowing you've been lying to me."

Kurt hung his head and there was a tender silence in which Blaine suddenly felt extremely out of place. Mustering up the only thing he could think of, he said, "I love him very much, Mr. Hummel. More than anything or anyone. And we'd both really like your blessing to continue being together."

Blaine swallowed tightly, waiting, as Burt looked away from his son and towards him once more. He wasn't so afraid anymore now that the confession was over but this was the super protective father of the boy he'd taken the virginity of. He was feeling kind of nervous. Sue him.

"Anderson," the bald-headed man began, "if you know my son at all you'll know that nothing can stop him from doing what he wants. Not even me. Not if he wants it enough. And I do know that he's been happier than I've ever seen him over these past few months—and I suspect that that's because of you."

"I—" He cleared his throat. His voice had cracked. "I'd like to think so, sir."

"So as much as I'd like to tell him that he can't see you, I'd rather he continue being honest with me." Here he turned to Kurt again, who had lifted his head somewhere in the middle of the exchange and was staring at Blaine with wide, sparkling eyes, and said pointedly, "So you have my… Well, not my blessing, not yet. But you have my _permission _to see each other—"

Kurt threw himself at Blaine, grinning like the proverbial cat, and Blaine accepted the hug with a shout of a laugh before they both moved back just enough to kiss. They were both so happy that they almost missed the next part of Burt's sentence.

"—provided that you're both one hundred percent honest with me."

"Promise!" Kurt squeaked, brushing noses with Blaine.

"Me too," Blaine said. His arms around Kurt flexed, bringing them closer.

"Now we just need to go over the rules."

Kurt's face fell and Burt gave him a look that said, _Do not test me_, so he resigned to lean into his boyfriend while his father talked. "All right, then. Go for it."

-0-

His phone ringing woke him up. It was black outside and his room was just on the right side of dark so that he could manage to find his phone on the side table without knocking anything over. The big, white numbers read "11:48" in a too-bright hue that he winced against before sliding the button across the screen and lifting his phone to his ear.

"Hi, Rachel."

"_Kurt!_" She sounded impossibly relieved, like he'd been awaiting death and she didn't know whether or not he would make it. "_Why haven't you answered my texts or my calls or my emails or my IMs or_—"

"Sorry, I've been…" He made a low, strangled noise in the back of his throat as his neck protested a certain stretch. "I've been busy," he said finally as he relaxed back into the pillow. "Blaine and I went and told my dad about us and then I came home to wind down and hang out while Blaine drove to OSU and I was ignoring my phone because I didn't want to talk to anybody and… Sorry."

Rachel heaved a great sigh. "_Well, as long as you're okay now. What did your dad say?_"

"He knows that he won't be able to stop me from seeing Blaine if I want to and that it really looks like he and I are in love so… He's condoning it. For now. Under the strict guidelines that my curfew is now 9:45 on school nights, I'm not allowed to be alone with Blaine at his place, and if we're over here, the bedroom door stays open." Kurt laughed lightly. "I feel like a real teenager for once—my dad doesn't want me to have sex with my boyfriend."

"_Is he gonna come watch us as Regionals tomorrow? You can introduce him to the group as your boyfriend!_"

Oh. Right.

Kurt licked his lips, sitting up in bed. He was still dressed in his clothes from earlier—he'd fallen asleep at about 5 o'clock after getting a text from Blaine reading "I'll call you tomorrow. Love you."—and he hadn't even given thought to anything about Saturday except that he didn't want to move from his bed until people stopped calling him to make sure he was okay.

"I don't know if he'll go. But I'll be rooting for you guys from my bedroom. You'll have to tell me how it went afterwards—"

"_What do you mean rooting? You'll be with us, won't you?_"

"I… I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm not going. I can't."

Rachel stuttered inarticulate sounds for a moment before practically shouting, "_Kurt! Please, I'm begging you. No one here even cares! Well, except for Santana who thinks you're secretly a horn dog set out to tap the ass of every gay guy in Lima—her words, not mine, although her version did have some pretty questionable language—and Finn who's a little confused and worried for you. He called me and told me that he went to talk to you but you were already asleep… Look, Kurt, everyone just wants to make sure you're okay_."

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Now, I… I hope you guys kick butt, okay? Go and sing those songs—they're amazing, by the way—and win. You'll be fabulous." He sighed. "Love you, Rach." And without another word, he hung up.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please drop me a review to let me know what you thought.**

**Love always,**

**E. M. Zeray**

**wishingonalightningbolt DOT tumblr DOT com**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This is the second to last chapter (all Born This Way and Prom Queen stuff) and I'd just like to say thank you to all of you who have stuck through this with me from the very beginning, those who joined along the way, and those who are maybe reading it now for the first time. Thank you all so much for the alerts, the favorites, and the reviews. You guys make my life.**

**Also, please keep in mind for this chapter, since I've changed a few things: conversations are different, things are different, this is an AU. I did not put Jesse St. James in this whole situation because he did not suit my purposes. So. Yeah.**

Dalton was different. But it was, at the same time, kind of comforting. Blaine had grown up there, been popular there, been successful there. He's had his first kiss in a quiet corner of a hallway, had even lost his virginity in one of the dorm rooms. Three—and a half—years of his life were all packed into those walls, scattered along the grounds, and, suddenly, hanging over his head.

He was a good man. He knew he was going to be a good educator. He was smart, hard-working, talented, driven, but he knew when to take a step back and relax. He prided himself on his charisma and charm. His intelligence was certainly up to par with Dalton standards and he wasn't exactly _bad _looking. So Dalton was happy to have him. The teachers he'd be working with, Dr. Sutro and Madame Vaughnn, were encouraging and grateful for his help. But there were some problems.

First, there was Kurt. Not actually him exactly but rather the fact that Dalton and McKinley weren't very close and while, yes, Blaine would be living at home while finishing up the year at Dalton, they wouldn't get to see each other very often. They would text and call and say, "I miss you," and "I love you," but it wouldn't be the same.

Then there was Sebastian. The junior Warbler was cocky and insistent—not to mention the fact that he was convinced Blaine's sudden appearance at the school was all because of him—and Blaine, in all of his infinite patience, could not shake him. If Sebastian had been at Dalton at the same time as Blaine, his whole high school experience would be trying not to fall in love with Christian while daydreaming about Sebastian's hands and body and—

Yeah, so he was hot. But he rude and arrogant and Blaine was madly, madly in love with Kurt. There would be no more incidents in which he pretended to be anything else. He was done hiding.

So when on his first day back in the hallowed halls of Dalton Academy, Sebastian waltzed in and immediately began flirting, all he did was say, "Mr. Smythe, take your seat."

No encouragement. No miscommunication. Clean. Finished. Done. Over.

Until Sebastian hung around, perched himself on Blaine's desk, and waved cheekily to Dr. Sutro as he left the classroom to get a coffee refill. Then they were alone.

"Aren't you going to be late to class?" Blaine muttered.

"We could ditch together," Sebastian offered, his voice low and smooth. "Make out in a maintenance closet."

"I'm not a teenager."

"I'm counting on that."

"I have a boyfriend," Blaine said unfalteringly. He lifted his head to watch Sebastian's expression as it went from a flirtatious grin to an arched eyebrow and even mouth. "Why don't you get one of your own?"

Sebastian hesitated for barely a moment before saying, "Oh, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. When will you learn?" He leaned in close. Blaine could smell the cinnamon from what must have been his coffee that morning on his breath. "It's always better to fuck and run. Unless they're so good that you stick around for round two. Everything else is too much work. You'll see."

He winked before leaving the classroom.

The final problem was The Bedroom Door—or simply The Door for short. Yes, Blaine deemed it capitalized and even gave it its own _dun dun duuuuuuuuuun_ as background music. Burt Hummel was a kind, reasonable man with a seventeen-year-old son that he adored more than anything in the world and Blaine _knew_ that but it didn't make The Bedroom Door issue any easier. The fact of the matter was that whenever Blaine was over, the door stayed open. That was the rule. Not that he'd be having sex with Kurt with anyone else in the house anyway. But still.

When he and Kurt were together, they talked briefly and politely about school and friends and glee club and then they made out until they couldn't breathe right, were flushed and panting and couldn't keep their hands off each other but they had to because open door and parents and jeez, when was the last time Blaine had had to worry about his boyfriend's parents catching him copping a feel? Even with his one high school boyfriend, that hadn't really been an issue. So. Never.

They made out like teenagers—he recognized the unfortunate irony of the situation—and groped and laughed, ghosting across necks and throats with hands under shirts and sliding over laps, mouths everywhere, breathing heavily, and then, when Burt stomped up the stairs to announce dinner, they had a good twenty seconds to right any clothing or hair that had been disheveled.

It was kind of fun. But it was also giving him the worst case of blue balls he'd ever had.

At first he'd been a bit indignant about The Door thing, whining to Kurt, "I've never had to keep a door open in my _life_," but Kurt had kissed him and promise long, lovely afternoons with an empty house and just the thought of getting to have sex in Kurt's bed for a change was enough to make him muscle through. That and he really didn't have much of a choice in the whole thing because, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Burt was kind of scary.

But that hadn't happened. Not yet. And while it certainly wasn't a deal breaker, it was…frustrating. To his sanity, his heart, and other, more sensitive, parts of his anatomy. It was just that he'd had stuff to do, Kurt had been busy with school, and nothing had worked out. Since the two weeks that Blaine had been at Dalton, he and Kurt had gone out _once_. Just once. And it had ended with a wonderfully dirty kiss and a hickey on his collarbone to think about and cherish for a while but it wasn't the same as dancing around his kitchen cooking and kissing and groping just because they _could_. To be quite honest, it really just sucked.

"No school tomorrow," was the first thing out of Blaine's mouth when Kurt answered the door the next Thursday afternoon. "Founder's day. I'm picking you up when McKinley gets out and we are going to—"

"Blaine!" Kurt interrupted loudly, his cheeks a gentle pink. "How nice to see you!" He was wearing a forced smile and was making very pointed glances to whatever was in his peripheral vision.

"…your dad's there, isn't he?"

Kurt nodded gravely.

"Wanna go for a drive?"

"Homework."

Gritting his teeth, he lunged forward and pulled Kurt into a deep, dirty kiss. "Tomorrow," he hissed. "I promise. Tomorrow."

A silly grin blossomed on Kurt's face. "Definitely."

So they spent the following afternoon in Kurt's bedroom, door wide open, and when Blaine left just before Kurt's dad showed up at six, he was significantly less stressed.

The next week, things were okay. He watched Warbler rehearsals, pointedly ignored Sebastian, spent time with his friends, and went out with Kurt on Friday night, still sporting two hickies high on his throat the following Monday morning. It was too warm for a scarf. He thought he could face the embarrassment. He could make the sacrifice.

"So your boyfriend's putting out?" Sebastian cooed to him. It was lunch time and he was in Madame Vaughnn's classroom, reading French essays and trying to fall asleep. At his reluctance to answer, the Warbler continued. "How good is the sex?"

It was frustration—there seemed to be a lot of that lately—and spite that made Blaine say, "Fantastic," with a bite of hostility and pride. "We go at it for hours."

Sebastian made an appropriately impressed noise, as if picturing it. Blaine swallowed tightly at the thought. He wondered what Sebastian thought his boyfriend looked like. He wondered what Sebastian would think if he knew exactly how old he was. But no. He and Kurt had gotten over the age thing, gotten over everything together, and so it was okay and he didn't need Sebastian's opinions and certainly didn't need his approval so why was he even wondering—

"I'm sure." Sebastian sounded like he was the exact opposite. "But you know what you're missing?"

"Nothing?"

"Excitement." Sebastian strolled around the desk, sitting directly in front of Blaine. If he attempted to continue his work, he would be staring at Sebastian's crotch. He couldn't think of anything he wanted less. "Guys your age," he continued, "are great, sure. I mean, I certainly enjoy them."

Blaine couldn't help the laugh that came out. "I'm sure you do."

"Oh, the puppy has a bite." Sebastian grinned. "I like it. But, as I was saying—guys your age can get boring, y'know? I'm…new." He ran his eyes up and down Blaine's body. The curly-haired man shuddered uncomfortably. "Exciting. And it's just a fling. It's not he has to _know_. Plus, I'm a teenager. My recovery time is like—"

"_Sebastian_," Blaine interrupted. "Please leave."

"Think about it."

"No."

-0-

"I miss you so much," Kurt panted, pressing Blaine against the door of his apartment. "My dad—he said because it's Friday—"

"Can you stay over?"

"He made my curfew an hour later."

Blaine frowned before deciding that he would take what he could get. "We'll make it work."

They did. After a long, luxurious, mutual shower to work out all the grime from the day, they made diner together with "Singing in the Rain" on in the living room. They kissed and touched and Blaine actually managed to lift Kurt onto the counter before deciding the sudden height advantage—a few inches more than usual—was unfair and jumping up there himself just before trapping Kurt between his legs.

It was fun. It was relaxing. It was everything Blaine wanted.

"And so now we're getting ready for Nationals," Kurt said around a mouthful of ice cream. "Which are going to be in New York." He grinned hugely, prompting Blaine to lean over and kiss him quickly. "Mmm… You should come. To New York. With us. Or. Y'know. To see us."

Blaine smiled warmly. "I might."

"Everyone keeps asking me about you," Kurt said, eyes fixed on the bottom of his bowl as he scraped the last bit of ice cream from the porcelain with his spoon. "For once in my life, my romantic life is all anyone can talk about. I don't know how Finn dealt with it last year—what with Quinn and then Rachel and then Quinn and then Rachel and so on and so forth. But you know, Azimio and Karofksy are leaving me alone. Strando slushied me yesterday but Santana threatened to rip his balls off and feed them to him so I think he might leave me alone." Bowl empty, Kurt set it down on the coffee table and curled up onto Blaine's chest.

Blaine wanted to say something, honestly, but he just…couldn't think of what. So he just let Kurt keep talking.

"Karofsky's running for Prom King. He and Santana are on an anti-bullying kick."

"That's…good?"

Kurt laughed, pulling Blaine's earlobe into his mouth briefly. "Yup."

"You have to be home soon."

"The movie's not over yet."

Blaine chuckled and ducked away from his boyfriend's mouth. "Ten minutes more. Mouth to yourself."

"No fun," he whined playfully, but he settled into the curve of Blaine's body and turned his eyes back to the screen—when had they started watching Beauty and the Beast?—for the next few minutes. Until Blaine's phone went off.

"Hello?" he chirped, eyes fixed on Gaston as he tripped out of Belle's house.

"How do you get red wine out of blazer piping?"

He scowled. "Sebastian, now's not really a good time."

Blaine felt Kurt stiffen next to him but he didn't speak. On the other end of the call, Sebastian hummed something light before saying, "You with the boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"Tell him I say hi."

"No."

"What are you doing answering the phone? I thought you two had sex for _hours_."

Blaine sighed. "Good_night_, Sebastian."

"Hold on. You two should come hang out with me and some friends next week."

"Sebastian."

"It won't all be teenagers, I promise. You ever been to Scandals?"

"…in high school. Once." And he had been. With Christian. It had been…something else.

"It could be fun."

Kurt sat up suddenly, as if he'd just made a life-altering decision, and crawled into Blaine's lap, immediately sucking on _that_ spot under his ear and rolling his hips into Blaine's.

Blaine gasped, free hand clamping onto Kurt's hip.

"Blaine?" Sebastian asked. He sounded like he was grinning.

"Hold… Hold on." He tossed his phone to the other side of the couch and grabbed onto Kurt's hair, pulling him away from Blaine's neck and forcing him to meet his eyes. "Help me."

"What's he want?"

"A… A double date. Kind of. I think. To a gay bar." Blaine swallowed tightly, watching Kurt as the younger man's eyes narrowed.

"Let's go."

"What?" Blaine hissed.

"I've never been anywhere like that." He shrugged. "It could be fun."

"Our last double date didn't exactly work out that well."

Kurt cocked his head, considering. "True. But we were with other people."

"You just want to see what Sebastian looks like."

"No." Kurt's hands trailed from his shoulders—when had those gotten there?—to his chest, and then farther down until they began to sneak under his T-shirt. "Actually, I'd really like to see how long it takes for you to go from sober and in control to drunk and unbelievably horny."

"With you?" Blaine prompted, smiling. "Not long."

"Then let's do it.

"You're underage."

"So is he."

"But I don't care about him. I do care about you." Blaine blinked up at him through his eyelashes. "I don't like the idea of you drinking."

"You have to stop thinking that I'm going to break, Blaine. Trust me." Squirming closer—and eliciting a choked moan from Blaine—he leaned in, kissing the tip of his boyfriend's nose. "I'd love to go with you. Even if it's just to see the face of the weasel I'm going to have to punch for flirting with my boyfriend."

Blaine chuckled as he reached for his phone. "Hey, Sebastian. We're in."

-0-

"It doesn't look very scandalous," Kurt muttered. The bar was dark, yes, and the music was loud and thumping, but while there were guys with their arms around each other and guys grinding on the dance floor, it was far from what Kurt had been imagining.

"C'mon, let's get a drink." Blaine put his hand on Kurt's lower back, leading him closer to the bar. "You can have _one_ drink. This is a very, very special occasion."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah? What would that be?"

"The first time of many that I get to stand and watch a million different guys wish you were with them. I need alcohol to get myself through it and it wouldn't be fair to make you deal with the horror that is me tipsy." He grinned cheekily, "So. One drink for you, two drinks for me, then we dance, and then we leave."

"Is Sebastian hotter than me?"

Blaine scoffed dramatically. "Not even close."

"But he's hot?"

"I plead the fifth."

Kurt leaned up against the bar, watching his boyfriend. "You look uncomfortable."

"Can't we just go home and take advantage of your curfew?"

"We haven't danced yet. You haven't kissed me yet."

Blaine grinned, pulling Kurt into his arms. "We're supposed to have fun tonight. So if you're not having fun, we leave. Okay?" Without waiting for an answer—although there wasn't much point in one anyway—he pulled Kurt into a kiss. It was long and slow and Kurt giggled into it, reaching down to grab Blaine's ass and press their bodies together.

When Blaine moaned, Kurt moved away, whispering, "Order me a drink?" against the shorter man's lips.

"Do you know what you want?"

"I can think of a few things…."

Blaine smirked and pecked him on the mouth. "I love you."

"You too. Now go get me alcohol."

Sighing, Blaine leaned into Kurt heavily. "Maybe I should only have one drink. Or no drink. Who's gonna drive us home?"

"Hey, I'm not getting drunk!" Kurt protested. "One drink. Slow sips. One drink over the course of an hour and my metabolism can handle it. I'll drive us home." He placed a gentle kiss to Blaine's hairline. "Drink as much as you want."

"I'm supposed to be responsible."

"Let me handle that tonight. Now go."

After another quick kiss, Blaine walked down to the other end of the bar to get the bartender's attention, leaving Kurt to sit on a stool and watch people dance. It was exactly 54 seconds before there was someone at his side, leaning over the bar and ordering beer.

Kurt looked at the boy—because he was really just a boy, definitely still in high school—with an arched eyebrow. An ugly, green, _stripped_ polo with the collar popped? No. Absolutely not.

"Hey," the boy greeted. He had a sharp, angular jaw line, smooth skin, and a few, faint freckles. He was tall and slender and he was wearing an evil smirk. "You know, I've got some friends coming later but they shouldn't be here for a while. We could take a detour to the restroom if you want." He raked his eyes over Kurt's form, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "I promise not to be gentle."

Stunned, Kurt's mouth fell open. He took a half step back and tried to come up with something to say.

"Virgin?" the stranger teased.

"No! I—no! Just… You're kind of forward and—"

"You have a sinful mouth," he continued, moving closer. Kurt tried to look somewhere else but he couldn't and the boy was so close and—

"Kurt!"

He stumbled backwards, away from the boy. Blaine was over his shoulder, holding two drinks, staring at him with wide, worried eyes. He had just recovered and had been about to smile and tell the freckled flirt that this was his boyfriend but…he never got the chance.

"Kurt," Blaine continued, his voice strained, "this is Sebastian."

Kurt's almost-smile disappeared immediately. "What?"

Sebastian grinned. "_You're_ Blaine's boyfriend?"

"Yes," Blaine cut in before Kurt could answer, stepping around the polo-clad Warbler to hand Kurt his drink. "He is."

"Damn, Anderson, you clean up nice." Sebastian leered appreciatively before turning back to Kurt. "Dating a little young though."

"You didn't seem to mind my age when you were asking me for a blowjob a minute ago," was what Kurt wanted to say. Instead, he clenched his jaw and took a sip of his drink. It wasn't bad-tasting but it burned going down. He resisted the urge to cough.

"And I'm sure you've dated a little old, Sebastian." Blaine's arm went around Kurt's waist protectively. "And we're just here to have some fun."

Sebastian nodded. "So fun you will have."

-0-

An hour later, Kurt was sitting at the bar, definitely a bit more than tipsy, watching as Blaine danced with Sebastian. There were a few guys—friends of Sebastian's—who had showed up as well. Two of them were dancing with the others and one had disappeared into the bathroom with another guy as soon as he'd arrived.

In all fairness, Blaine had asked Kurt to dance first and then had gone to dance rather innocently with the other boy when Kurt had declined. Plus, he was definitely, definitely drunk.

Blaine lifted his hands in the air, shaking his lower body barely, and locking eyes with Kurt over his shoulder. He was practically begging Kurt to take him.

Kurt licked his lips. The room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.

He knew what sober felt like—it not what he was feeling then. What he was feeling was loose and warm and, yeah, jealous. And horny.

His mind was made up for him before he realized because he was suddenly on the dance floor, arms around Blaine's neck, hips pressed against his, moving rhythmically. Blaine pulled him close, kissed him heatedly, and suddenly everything was sparkly and tingly and damn, Blaine was hot and solid and—oh. Hard.

"Kurt," he moaned. "God, you're so hot. I've wanted to dance with you all night."

"Blaine—"

Blaine's mouth was on his again. Sloppy, wet, pure desire pulsing between them. Best. Kiss. Ever.

"I can't wait to be alone," Blaine panted. "Can't wait to have you naked."

"Blaine—let's _go_."

"Not yet," he argued, mouthing sloppily down the side of Kurt's neck. "Keep touching me, Kurt. Keep kissing me."

So he did.

-0-

In the end, it was a miracle that Blaine got home with only slight damage—some finger-shaped bruises on his thighs and fingernail scratches on his back—and that Kurt managed to sneak into his bedroom, just before curfew, without letting his father realize that he was kind of really tipsy.

And then things were back to normal. As if nothing had ever happened.

It was glee club rehearsal that Monday when Mr. Schuester announced their theme for the week. And Kurt couldn't have been more excited.

"What are you going to print on your shirt?" Mercedes asked him as they were walking out to the parking lot.

Grinning, Kurt hugged his French textbook closer to his chest and said, "Not sure. We'll see."

He spent an hour on the phone with Blaine, telling him about Born This Way and how Santana had walked him to a few of his classes that day. The Bully Whips was apparently a legitimate endeavor.

"Are you serious?" Blaine laughed. "She called you Teen Gay?"

Kurt laughed, staring at his bedroom ceiling. "Yup. And… Karofsky's on the Bully Whips so he's gonna be walking me to classes too—"

"No way in hell."

He sighed. "I knew you were going to say that."

"Kurt—"

"He told Santana that he was really sorry for what he did to me, Blaine. He's not harassing anyone anymore. He's better!"

"He made your life a living hell, Kurt!"

"He cried in front of me today." His voice was soft. Tender. "He told me he was sorry and he would never let anything like that happen again. He _cried_, Blaine."

Blaine didn't even hesitate. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it. You just have to trust me."

"…I do. I do trust you."

"Good. So, I was thinking for our date night on Friday—"

It was actually a pretty fast week. He didn't think about Sebastian, didn't think about stress, didn't think about anything that could possibly screw him up. Instead, he went to glee rehearsals with a huge smile and goofed around with Mercedes and Tina as they practiced the beginning of Gaga's self-love anthem. He watched crappy TV with his dad, spent hours upon hours on the phone with Blaine, and found that when he didn't have huge, Hulk-like figures in letterman jackets following him around and terrorizing him at school, he kind of enjoyed being a teenager.

Kurt texted Blaine a picture of his shirt right before he went on stage with Tina and Mercedes. When the song was over, he had three text messages and a missed phone call.

Even though Kurt refused to wear the shirt to dinner at Breadstix that night—they were obvious enough, two boys holding hands over the dinner table on what was quite obviously a date—Blaine still kissed him deeply when he picked Kurt up, mumbling something about "shirt" and "so hot" and "should say 'likes _Blaine_.'"

Dinner was lovely. Romantic and cozy and perfect, they made heart eyes at each other during the whole meal, feeding each other bits of their food.

"When did we get so obnoxiously adorable?" Blaine asked.

"I think it might have something to do with how long it's been since we've been face-to-face." Kurt's boot nudged his leg under the table. "I've missed you."

"You too."

There was a comfortable silence for a moment before Kurt sat up a little bit straighter, looking down at their joined hands over the table and blushing just barely.

"Kurt?"

"I… There's something I wanted to ask you."

Blaine squeezed his hand. "Okay. So ask."

Kurt cleared his throat but it didn't help the overwhelming sensation that his heart was lodging itself in there, building its own home for however long it took for Kurt to get his question out. "Blaine," he began, voice cracking slightly. He coughed again and lifted his eyes to Blaine's. "Blaine… Will you go to junior prom with me?"

Blaine stared at him for a moment, not even blinking, before saying, "Prom."

Immediately, Kurt's frowned. "You don't want to go to prom with me?" Blaine's mouth opened and he hesitated, searching for what to say, but Kurt pulled his hand back. "Kurt," Blaine hurried to say, "of course I _want_ to go to prom with you—"

"So then why don't you say yes?" Kurt whispered.

"I—Kurt… _Prom_."

Kurt fidgeted for a moment, his hands twisting together on the table and his gaze fixed firmly on them as they did. "What _about_ prom, Blaine?"

"I just… I don't think it would be a very good idea for us to go. Together. I want _you_ to go though. You should take Mercedes or Rachel or something—go and have fun—but you already get enough shit at school and after everything that happened with us there it probably wouldn't be a good idea for us to go…together." He reached for Kurt's hands. Looking up, Kurt watched as Blaine's eyes flickered back and forth, searching his own desperately. "I can't do that to you. Please—it's not that I don't _want_ to it's just that—"

"But I want you there," Kurt interrupted. "It doesn't _matter_ to me what other people say. I don't _care_."

Blaine sighed, his eyes falling closed. "Kurt, I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," he said immediately.

"I want you to never, _ever_ forget that I love you. I want you to re_mem_ber"—he squeezed Kurt's hands tightly and opened his eyes, the hazel-gold appearing darker than before—"that I need to keep you safe. You have another year of high school after this and if something happened at that prom because I was there with you… I would never forgive myself."

"Blaine… What if nothing happens? What if all that happens is that we take pictures and dance together and make out in the bathroom like teenagers?"

"Kurt, I'm sorry. Really, you have to believe that I am but… It's a risk I can't take."

"But Quinn—she was talking about how you only get one shot at your junior prom—"

"Kurt," Blaine said firmly. "I could never say no to you. I'm crazy about you. So if you really, _really_ want me there…I guess we can _try_ but the fact of the matter is there are only about twelve people that would be okay with it if I was. And the rest of the school holds a lot more pull than them. I… I love you, Kurt. But Quinn's right. Your one shot at your junior prom shouldn't be spent being attacked because you brought another boy—not to mention that he's kind of five years older than you and used to work at the school."

Kurt looked down at the table again but he didn't let go of Blaine's hand. "I understand, Blaine. I love you too."

-0-

Dress shopping with the girls should have been fun. What with everything that had been going on earlier in the year, getting to spend time with the girls and not worry about Blaine or his dad or school… It should have felt like a well-earned vacation. Instead, it felt like prison.

It wasn't that they weren't good company—although Rachel and Mercedes, who were arguably his two best friends in the universe, were not there—but rather that it hurt, watching the girls get gussied up and all excited and knowing that he wouldn't be going. Despite what Blaine had said about him going and enjoying his junior prom, he was probably going to end up bringing over take out to Blaine's apartment and cuddling with him on the couch during a rom-com marathon. And it would be better than prom.

So it wasn't actually that bad, sitting between Tina—in an actually quite attractive black strapless—and Brittany—in a green and orange dress that kind of made her look like drunk Tinkerbell—to observe the Prom Gown Dry Run for his friends.

"Why did we decide to include Kurt?" Brittany asked suddenly, as if realizing for the first time that he was there.

"Because," Tina said like she couldn't believe her ears, "getting a look past him is like getting the thumbs up from Joan and Melissa Rivers. It just might increase our pre-prom buzz factor."

Kurt smiled to himself. He really had missed being around his girls out of school. He had just been about to say something along those lines when Lauren Zizes—Puck's prom date and therefore technically one of the glee girls—stepped out from behind the changing barrier in the middle of the room.

She was wearing a bright yellow dress with what appeared to be millions of folds. It made an ugly sound like ruffling plastic when she moved.

"I look like a lemon meringue pie," she said to no one in particular. Her voice was small and defeated. It was the first time Kurt had ever heard it be so.

"I think you look delicious," Brittany told her.

"Don't despair," Kurt jumped in. "_No_body bigger than a size two looks good in a prom dress. I mean," he continued, turning to Tina to get her support, "they're practically designed to make us look awkward." When he turned back to Lauren, he fixed his eyes on the bottom of her dress and moved up. It wasn't really that bad, it was just… Pretty bad. "I think the _color_ is wrong."

Lauren made a pensive face as Brittany stuck out her thumb in agreement.

"Let's go navy!" Tina, on his right, clapped as Brittany's face lit up. "It's chic and slimming!"

Lauren smiled, muttered, "Duly noted," and returned behind the barrier while Tina and Brittany praised his fashion advice.

Yeah, it was pretty good to be back with the girls.

After Santana stepped out—in a stunning red dress—and they all agreed she needed to go no further, Kurt began to frown to himself slightly. The more he thought about prom, the more he really wanted to be there. Since Quinn and Finn were back together, there was no reason he couldn't take Rachel. They'd go as friends and have fun and it would be a reasonably acceptable high school experience.

But he didn't really want to go without Blaine.

"So when are you getting your own prom outfit, Kurt?" Tina asked, twirling around in her dress.

His stomach felt knotted fifty times over. "Um," he said weakly, "I don't think I'm going."

Santana nodded. "I wouldn't want to go stag either."

"No, I… Blaine thinks that it wouldn't be a good idea for us to go together because of how the school is so we'll probably just end up staying in and watching a movie instead." He tried to smile. And failed.

"But, Kurt—"

"It's okay, really." But it wasn't. "He wants me to go so… So maybe I'll go with Rachel or something. Now let's drop it. Brittany, go try on the purple one."

-0-

When Sam's double-ish date thing with Mercedes and Rachel turned into just a date with Mercedes so that Kurt could still go to prom without appearing too hopelessly depressing, Blaine was the first to hear about it.

He went over to Kurt's the Sunday morning on the week before prom and laid around his bedroom with him as they swapped lazy kisses and basked in the glow of being together. And Kurt told him all about his date with Rachel.

Blaine was happy for him, really. He grinned and kissed him sweetly, saying, "I'm glad you're going. I want you to have fun. I'm sure you'll look positively dashing in your tux."

Kurt gnawed on his lower lip. "About that. I was thinking—I've been making this, um, outfit. And I wanted to wear it at prom—"

"That's a great idea!"

"—but since I'm going with Rachel it might weird."

Blaine frowned. "Weird?"

"It's a kilt," Kurt explained to the ceiling. Blaine was on his chest, a hand on his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. "An homage to the late Alexander McQueen."

Blaine was silent for a moment before letting out a breathy, "Oh."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed.

"Can I… Can I see it?"

Kurt's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

When Blaine sat up and faced him, his eyes were blown dark, his licks darting out to lick at his lips every few seconds until he managed to say, "Would you try on the outfit for me? So I can…see?"

What Blaine was asking dawned on him and his immediate internal response was _Yes. Of course._ Except that his dad was downstairs and whatever the idea of Kurt in a kilt was suddenly doing for Blaine was probably not going to be something they could take care of.

"Kurt?"

"I'll make sure to take pictures on prom night," he said softly.

Blaine knew that that was fair. After the disaster date on Friday that hadn't ended in anything more than a few small kisses and a promise to call the next day—which he did but Kurt couldn't talk because he was out with the girls—they hadn't talked much. And Blaine had felt like the whole thing left them just a little bit too distant.

Any distance was too much distance.

So Blaine simply settled back onto Kurt's chest and said, "I'd like that."

-0-

The actual night of prom was really rather lovely. Kurt, Rachel, Sam, and Mercedes met up at the Berry's house for pictures and then adjourned to Breadstix for dinner. The two couples—who were both going as simply friends—talked and laughed and overall enjoyed each other's company for the meal. They talked about music and the dresses—Sam complimented Kurt's kilt and told him it was a "badass brave move, man" before going back to making subtle heart eyes at Mercedes.

Rachel's performance was staggered with Sam's and then with Mercedes'—Kurt had elected to stay as far away from the mic as possible and just have as much fun as he could without being noticed—so none of them were missing each other for too long. And he actually had fun.

He danced with Rachel and his other glee club friends. He noticed Santana and Karofsky out of the corner of his eye but did nothing more than meet Santana's gaze for a second before turning back to Rachel.

He felt bad for Karofsky. Kurt had taken his apology to heart and the former bully certainly wasn't harassing him anymore but it was so sudden and so heartbreaking that it wasn't until Kurt actually stepped back and realized it but… Karofsky was sad. And alone. And hiding. And that wasn't fair. Kurt wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

"Oh, Kurt," Mercedes hissed excitedly, grabbing his arm. "C'mon. They're gonna announce prom royalty!"

-0-

Burt Hummel was fully settled into his recliner, dinner in hand, sugar-free, caffeine-free, taste-free—dammit, Kurt—soda poised on the coffee table, when the doorbell rang. Grunting a little more than was probably necessary, he stood, shuffling his way over to the door.

He had to admit that his jaw clenched just barely when he saw what was on the other side.

"Mr. Hummel," Blaine said softly, "I need—I was going to call but I didn't want to while driving and—"

"Spit it out, kid."

Blaine licked his lips, looking around desperately, as if the words he wanted were floating around and he was unable to catch them. "I need you to know right now that I am terrifyingly, horrifyingly, madly, desperately_, insanely_ in love with your son. I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't."

"Doing what?" Blaine smiled barely at the question, looking down to his shoes and then back up. And then Burt realized. "Well," he grunted, "your tux is nice but I think you're going to need something a little better to win him over again. You kind of broke his heart."

Blaine swallowed so thickly that Burt could see his Adam's apple bob. "I know"—his voice was pained—"and I feel horrible about it and I've been thinking about it over and over in my head for hours and I just realized that I don't care about how people look at us or talk about us or what they do to us as long as we're together and I plan on spending every single day of my life proving that to him. Starting now. Tonight."

Burt cracked a smile. "Take a breath, Blaine. And make sure you have him back tomorrow before noon. I don't—I really, _really_ don't want to know _any_thing just…make sure he's happy again, will you?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Blaine began to stumble back down the front steps. "I plan on it, sir."

Burt shook his head as he watched the man race back towards his car. "Before noon, Blaine!" he called after him, just in case.

"Got it, I promise!"

-0-

The feedback from the microphone was the only thing Kurt could hear for a moment before Figgins' voice overpowered it. "—candidates for king and queen gathered on the stage," he was saying.

He felt Rachel's arm slip through his and he looked at her briefly, smiling. The night was almost over. Another hour, they'd go home, curl up into PJs in the Hummel living room and watch Sixteen Candles while drinking hot chocolate. It would be, overall, a pretty fantastic prom night.

"The votes are in," Figgins continued. "This is the moment you've all been waiting for—"

-0-

From the back of the gym, Blaine tried to make out a familiar face. A glee club member, a teacher, a student from Madame Henri's class, anything, but he came up empty. All faces were turned towards the stage where Figgins was saying, "—been waiting for, where we announce our junior prom _king _and also prom _queen_."

Blaine sighed to himself. He was so late. Ridiculously late. There could only be about an hour of prom left and maybe he'd never find Kurt and Kurt would tell him that it was lost cause and they were a lost cause and oh, fucking fuck, he'd screwed up big time, hadn't he?

He forced himself to take a deep breath. He and Kurt were in love. He and Kurt were going to last forever. He and Kurt were right, the most right thing he'd ever been a part of, and it was going to be okay. He just had to believe that.

"Roll the drum please."

Dammit, he had to find Kurt _immediately._

He pushed his way through the crowd, the sound of the quick drum taps filling the gym with tension and excitement so quickly that he felt a wave of nostalgia. His own junior prom—hosted by Dalton along with its sister school—had felt exciting as well.

But the nostalgia fell away to nausea in seconds.

"This year's junior prom king _is_… David Karofksy!"

It was ridiculous, the fact that a guy like that that was still allowed on campus, still allowed around the students he'd bullied, still allowed around Kurt. Blaine didn't really care if the boy had apologized. It wasn't enough. There was nothing that would ever make it enough. Not when he'd made the love of Blaine's life so petrified.

He kept pushing, kept trying to find Kurt. In seconds, everything would be a mess of cheering and dancing again when the prom queen was announced and then his chances of finding Kurt were pretty much shot—

"And now, your 2011 McKinley High prom queen…"

-0-

The tension was practically tangible. Kurt was staring at the stage in shock. _Karofsky?_ Well it certainly wasn't that he was unpopular but it was just… _Karofsky?_

Rachel seemed just as shocked as he was. But as soon as Figgins moved onto the queen, she lost interest.

"…with an overwhelming number of write-in votes is…"

That should have been the first sign. How could so many people write in the same girl to win? What girl that was that popular wouldn't run for queen?

But Kurt didn't question it.

Didn't think about it.

Because it didn't matter to him.

Until it did.

Figgins' voice was grave when he said, "Kurt Hummel."

-0-

Kurt Hummel.

He'd said _Kurt Hummel_.

That… That meant…

The whole gym was silent for an instant—one perfect instant that seemed to coincide with the amount of time Blaine needed to absorb and process the information and stop standing there like an idiot in shock and move—before someone in the back let out a cheer.

Blaine turned to glare at him.

A jock he recognized.

Of course.

It was all a prank, all a stupid joke. It hadn't mattered after all whether or not Blaine was there with him. He should have realized—none of it mattered. There was no greater possibility that something would go wrong had he been there than there was because he hadn't been and so none of it mattered because he should have been there when Kurt needed him—before he realized Kurt needed him, before he realized he needed Kurt. Nothing but Kurt mattered, nothing but him and Kurt, nothing but _KurtandBlaine_ as one entity. Why hadn't he just said yes?

The spotlight, he then realized, was pointed directly at Kurt. Who was a mere twenty paces away from him, flanked by Rachel and Mercedes, and doing nothing more than standing there, probably staring up at the stage in shock.

A slow, either disbelieving or purposefully harmful, clap started up off to the side a bit. Blaine's fists clenched. But just as he began to move towards Kurt, Kurt began to move towards the _stage_.

-0-

He had no idea what he was doing. He didn't know why or how or anything except that he was so goddamn sick of getting called names.

Fairy.

Queer.

Homo.

Faggot.

Queen.

A hateful, ignorant, secret ballot was the outlet for all of the fear and prejudice and judgment and he was so, so sick of it all.

He was sick of them being cowards. He was sick of them trying to make him feel like less of a person. He knew he wasn't. He knew what he was and he was proud of it because he had people who loved him. He was loved. He was loved by his friends, loved by his father, loved by _Blaine_ and that was something he would never be ashamed of.

So he went up there, surrounded by the heavy silence, his boots clomping so loudly that they echoed, and took his scepter, took his crown, and faced his attackers.

He faced his bullies, his nightmares, his tormentors—all of them, all at once. He stared them down and didn't have to tell them that he wasn't going to just take it anymore. They knew.

The thought made him giddy enough to crack a smile as he said to the crowd, "Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton."

-0-

Blaine couldn't help the stupid smile that grew on his face the second Kurt spoke. He was pretty sure Rachel was the first one to applaud but soon there were others. Almost every person there was clapping, whether it was because they didn't want to stand out or because they were indifferent, it didn't matter.

Blaine was clapping hardest, cheering the loudest, because _that_ was his boyfriend.

When Figgins announced the prom royalty dance, the look on Kurt's face was priceless. It went from surprised to horrified to mystified and then he turned out towards the crowd, probably searching for Rachel's face for guidance.

But he found Blaine's instead.

Blaine lifted a hand in greeting when their eyes met, still grinning hugely, and then Kurt's face went giddy with excitement.

It was quite a sight, the young man in a kilt and Doc Martens practically skipping over to David Karofsky and grabbing the crown he was wearing before jumping off stage and disappearing onto the dance floor. The throng parted for him though and within seconds, he was standing right in front of Blaine and putting the prom king crown on _his_ head.

Blaine laughed, trying to look up at it and ending up looking ridiculous. But Kurt didn't care. Because he was there. Blaine was _there_.

He threw himself into his boyfriend's arms, whispering, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine told him, arms encircling him immediately. "I was an idiot."

"No—it doesn't matter anymore." Somewhere, distantly, music started and Blaine knew people were staring at them but who even cared because _Kurt_. Strong, brave, gorgeous _Kurt_ was there and smiling and let them stare. He was going to have to deal with a lifetime of people staring at Kurt. Might as well get used to it. "Tonight," Kurt said, stepping out of the hug, "you're my king. And we're royalty. And I'm gonna show them that it doesn't matter whether they're yelling about me or whispering behind my back—they can't touch me. They can't touch us. Or what we have."

Beaming, Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck and pulled him close enough to brush their noses together before whispering, "That's a fantastic idea."

**A/N: Thank you all so much! I hope you've enjoyed. I'd love some reviews:D**

**Love,**

**E. M. Zeray**

**wishingonalightningbolt DOT tumblr DOT com**


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: YAY! It's done:D

Finally, this monster is complete! Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this things and I hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I have.

So this final part is basically a wrap up of the end of Kurt's junior year. It explains a few key moments in his senior year and then brushes over the years beyond. Some pretty sweet Blangst within—because Blangst is wonderful and really gets everything all schmoopy and makes Klaine all close and asdfghjkjhgfdsa—and tons of fluff at the end:)

Thank you, thank you, thank you all. This has been amazing.

Blaine didn't go with him to New York for Nationals. Couldn't. Had school and stuff and too much, always too much, so he stayed in Ohio but they talked on the phone and texted throughout the day and even though they were away from each other it wasn't really all that bad. Not any worse than the days they spent a two hour drive apart anyway.

But then Kurt got home and it felt like they'd been away forever and they hugged and kissed and Blaine lamented their loss in New York but Kurt had been too excited over everything to actually be down about it.

So it was good. Everything was good and happy and then the year was over and summer was upon them.

They spent every day together. Blaine was done, had a degree, could teach anywhere he wanted. Kurt was going to be a senior, going to apply to NYADA—like he and Rachel had been planning since they'd returned from New York—and there wasn't a doubt in Blaine's mind that he was going to get in.

And so then there was the question of what to do. Blaine had a job as a freshman English teacher at Waynesville High, just a twenty minute drive from his new, bigger, better apartment in Lima that had a spare bedroom and a really awesome shower that he and Kurt had spent at least thirty minutes in on the day he'd gotten settled. He was set for as long as he needed. He was going to be a great teacher and he was going to have fun but…Kurt. It was suddenly more secrets. He couldn't let anyone at the new school know—even if it was legal—that he was dating a high school senior. So there was hiding.

There was also the matter of Kurt leaving for New York. What would happen then? When he got to the big city would he leave Blaine in his dust? Break his heart and find someone younger, someone taller, someone who didn't live a plane ride away?

Blaine didn't want to think about it.

They avoided it for as long they could. They avoided whatever they were scared of, whatever they were uncomfortable with, for a very long time. Until they knew they had to start easing themselves into it.

Blaine's friends were first. About two weeks into summer, just after the purchasing of the new apartment with the sexy-times-convenient shower, Kurt had called and announced his impending arrival after a fight with Rachel. But four of Blaine's friends from his years at Dalton—his best friends in the universe, not including a few people from OSU—had been over. Upon seeing the unknown name pop up on Blaine's cell phone and the way Blaine reacted with flushed cheeks and a stupid grin, an easily-excitable blonde named Jeff had grabbed the phone and turned it on speaker. Kurt didn't wait for Blain's greeting before speaking.

"Hi, Blaine—I, uh, I'm on my way over and I—shit." He sniffed. "Um, Rachel and I had a fight about NYADA and Finn and all these stupid things and I just… I miss you. Which is really stupid because I saw you all day yesterday but I need a hug so…I'm on my way, okay?"

Blaine licked his lips. "Sure. Of course. But, uh, I have some friends over."

There was hesitation. "Oh. Maybe I shouldn't—"

"I'm sure they'd love to meet you. If… If you want." Blaine glanced around at his friends. Wes, an Asian man who was prim and proper on the outside but fun and outrageously silly when you got to know him, was nodding, smiling softly. Jeff, still holding the phone, did the same. Nick and David simply grinned. Blaine knew he was safe.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"You win everybody over."

"…do they even know about us?"

Blaine glared at his friends quickly, begging them not to speak up. Hurriedly, he said, "They do now."

"Okay. I… I'll be there soon. I love you, Blaine."

David's eyebrows went up, looking admiringly at Blaine. He ignored it in favor of saying, "Love you too, Kurt. Drive safe."

Jeff disconnected. Things were silent for a moment before Nick said, "He's young."

Blaine nodded. "He's turning 18 in a month."

Wes tapped his fingers on the counter absently. "How long?"

There was no need for elaboration. "It'll be six months on the thirteenth."

There were congratulations and hugs and smiles and they were perfect around Kurt. They welcomed him and shook his hand, talked about colleges and high school, made fun of Blaine, even sang together for a while until Kurt had to leave to meet his curfew. Blaine followed him out into the hall, closing the door behind him, and kissed him gently.

"I'm sorry about Rachel," he whispered. "She'll come around. She overreacted."

"There's a picture of her next to 'overreacting' in the dictionary," Kurt grumbled.

Laughing, Blaine tilted his head up to kiss him again. "They liked you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Because I wanna be around you a lot longer." Kurt kissed him on the forehead, on the nose, and then on the lips, just lingering slightly, before waving goodbye and walking down the hall.

Blaine knew without having to ask that his friends had been watching through the peephole. He hadn't expected anything less.

There had been other things. By the end of the summer, most things were figured out. How to see each other, how to answer questions about their love life, how to do everything really. So all that was left was…NYADA.

"Even if I don't get in, I'm still going to New York."

It shouldn't have been a shock. Blaine should have figured that that was reality, that was what Kurt wanted. But he was still surprised when it was said. And it still hurt.

"And I want you to come with me."

He went kind of numb then. He'd just gotten a job, just bought a new place, just gotten settled, and in less than a year Kurt wanted him to reverse all of that and go to New York with him? Start over? Find another job, another home, another coffee shop, another community theatre? It was a huge deal. It was scary. But what was even more scary was the fact that Blaine knew there was only one answer.

He sat there, at his kitchen counter, and waited for Kurt to lift his head from the final chapter of his last summer reading book. When he did, Blaine nodded shortly. "Okay."

Kurt looked stunned. Blinked. "Wh… Really?"

He nodded again. "Yes."

"...are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, Kurt." He reached out, grabbing Kurt's hand. "I'm always sure when it comes to you. I've been looking for you forever. I'm not going to let you walk out of my life so quickly."

There was brief moment of silence before Kurt launched himself at his boyfriend, kissing him quickly and sloppily but it didn't matter because it was them and they were happy. When they broke away, Kurt laughed, "I'm never saying goodbye to you."

They weren't stupid. The year was long and they had time to worry and get anxious and they exploded into fights over and over again but always to the same result. They'd both apologize, no matter what had happened or what had ignited it all. They apologized and kissed. They hugged, promised each other it wasn't over, said "I love you," and went on their way.

Sebastian wasn't around any longer, what with Blaine's stint at Dalton over. Karofsky had actually wound up at the private school after being pushed out of the closet by some guys on the football team. He and Kurt talked regularly. They were friends.

The glee kids were still the same, plus a few new additions. Sugar, Rory, and Joe were all nice enough but Kurt didn't see himself bonding with any of them too much. He and Rachel fought a few times, he and Mercedes talked about boys and college and fears, and when he got home to Finn, Sam, Burt, and Carole, he felt like the luckiest person alive. It was astounding how much could change in a year.

But it was easy to tell that the changes weren't over.

-0-

"We go to a Halloween party every year in Westerville," Blaine said, scrolling through pages of costume ideas on his phone while Kurt finished up homework. "My old Dalton friends I mean. Everyone takes time off from school to go and we all hang out for a few days afterwards."

"That's cool."

There was silence in response.

Kurt was sitting at Blaine's desk in his bedroom—the apartment hadn't come with a study but it was all just as well because Blaine preferred to work as close to his bed as possible so that he didn't fall asleep before he hit the mattress—as he worked, hunched over a notebook with a pen in hand. To his right, in bed with the sheets pulled up to his hips and dressed in nothing but his watch, Blaine watched him for a moment before saying, "Wes brought his girlfriend last year. David brings his every year."

"Sounds fun."

"…do you wanna go with me?"

"It's on a Wednesday. I have school the next morning. And, knowing us and our party-going routine, we'll probably end up wanting to have sex when we get home and I will be a wreck at school the next day."

Blaine tapped his forefinger against the back of his phone as he shifted, leaning farther back into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah. And I'll have to teach."

"You should go—it's your tradition. Just be responsible. You have young ones whose minds it is your responsibility to brighten."

He laughed, looking at Kurt again, and found that the young man was looking back at him. Kurt smiled easily.

"You know how I decided to take art this year? So I could sketch my designs better?"

Blaine nodded, mashing his face against the pillow inadvertently.

"Can I sketch you?"

It wasn't really a question because Blaine didn't have to answer. He gave a kind of nod but Kurt was already digging his sketch pad out of his bag and grabbing a pencil. He said something to himself about lighting and sweaty skin and that goddamn sheet but Blaine pretended not to hear in favor of lounging back against his pillows and closing his eyes.

He began singing eventually. Something slow and romantic that Kurt couldn't quite place. Blaine's voice was rich and sensual, shaking purposefully on low notes that went straight through Kurt's body and made his toes curl. But they didn't speak.

Blaine moved from song to song, humming or doo-whopping when he forgot the occasional line, and then, sometime later, Kurt crawled into bed with him—dressed solely in his boxer briefs—and they stayed there, kissing, for what felt like hours.

"Can I see what you drew?" Blaine asked eventually.

"It's not very good. You're too difficult to draw. So many lines and shapes…" Kurt ran his hand down Blaine's sculpted torso, curling his fingers in the chest hair and then tapping along his belly playfully. "I'm better at drawing clothes."

They were silent again.

Their anniversary fell on the first day of winter break. They spent all day together, as close as they possibly could. When Kurt first walked in the door, they only made it to the couch before they were on each other like dogs. They made breakfast in T-shirts and underwear, showered under a too-hot spray until they were pruned, and had sex on every viable surface in Blaine's apartment.

When midnight struck, Kurt whispered to Blaine in the darkness of his bedroom, "I'm sad to think about leaving this place."

Blaine snuggled closer to his boyfriend, nuzzling his neck. He knew Kurt wasn't talking about Ohio or Lima—they'd had that conversation about his family and his friends and how he'd miss them but New York was what he wanted and he wouldn't be upset that he was going—so there was only one option as to his topic of conversation. "You weren't sad about the other place."

"You brought your bed from the other place here," Kurt sighed, affirming Blaine's suspicion. "I didn't really lose anything when you moved."

"We can bring my bed to New York. We'll put it on the truck."

Kurt ducked slightly to kiss Blaine's temple. "What will we do on our first night there?"

"We'll figure it out, Kurt. We always do."

Kurt's letter from NYADA arrived at the same time that Blaine received a phone call. So when Kurt raced to the apartment after school, letter in hand and elated grin on his face, he was met with an angry, tired, and frustrated Blaine.

The smile was replaced by a frown. Blaine was slouching, dressed in an old wrinkled T-shirt that was obviously too big on him and sweatpants that had what appeared to be a coffee stain mid-thigh on the right leg. He looked exhausted and his eyes were angry and dark.

"Did you go to work today?" Kurt asked softly.

"Felt sick so I left early," was Blaine only explanation—mumbled and weak—before he shuffled back to the couch and collapsed onto a pile of blankets.

When Kurt stepped farther into the apartment, he saw ice cream and junk food laid out on the coffee table, _Zombieland _playing on the TV, and all of the curtains closed.

"You look like you just went through the most horrifying breakup in existence," Kurt said numbly, closing the door behind him. "We're not breaking up, are we?"

"No."

Kurt wandered over to the couch and got his boots off so that he could curl up with Blaine. Blaine went to him instantly, pressing his face into Kurt's neck.

It was quiet for a while, Kurt just holding Blaine as he spread out on top of him. But then Blaine opened his mouth and let out a sad sigh before saying, "You're so lucky, Kurt." He said it so quietly that Kurt had to strain to hear it. "Your parents—they love you so much."

"I know." He did.

"And you're young and you're excited about college—you get to go to a new city and meet new people and have new experiences and nobody can tell you that you're not allowed to."

Kurt ran his hand over Blaine's back again and again until the man shuddered and let out a sob.

He broke.

"You get to go home for holidays and bring whoever you want with you." He was heaving, body shaking with the urge to dissolve into tears. "You get to tell your dad about our dates and ask Carole for advice on what to wear to impress a guy."

Kurt was so stunned that the only thing he could think of to say was, "I would never ask Carole for clothing advice."

Blaine laughed wetly, shoving his face into Kurt's neck again. "They love you so much, Kurt. No matter what you are or who you are. Promise me you'll never take advantage of that, okay?"

"…I promise."

They laid there for a while. Eventually, Blaine stopped crying. His breathing evened out, his body went lax, and Kurt knew he was asleep.

His heart ached. His letter was abandoned on the coffee table between a carton of ice cream and a bag of barbeque Lays. Blaine's tears were still wet on his neck and soaked into his collar. His heart felt so big in his chest, made everything inside of him turn into knots with the suddenly desire to take care of Blaine, make sure he never broke like this again.

Suddenly, there were things that were more important than New York. Kurt had never thought that that would be possible.

He couldn't figure out what it was that had turned Blaine into such a mess. He knew Blaine wasn't sick. When Blaine was sick he stayed in bed, watching romantic movies and practically inhaling chicken soup. And the things he'd said about Kurt's dad and Carole…

They'd been together for a _year_ and they _never_ talked about Blaine's parents. _Ever_.

There had been a moment just after they'd gotten together, around New Year's, when Blaine had talked about going to see his family but there had been no other mention since.

Kurt knew nothing.

Were they divorced? Did Blaine have siblings? Did Blaine have cousins or uncles or aunts? Nieces, nephews? Anything besides his parents? Did he still have both parents? Where did his family live? Did they see each other at all besides on Christmas? Why didn't Blaine ever talk about them?

Kurt was still wondering about that when he fell asleep.

-0-

"—out like a light. Yes, sir, I'll have him back by curfew—you have my word. R-right. Of course, Mr. Hummel. Um. Burt. Yes, goodnight."

Kurt rolled over on the couch so he could stare at the man hovering above him. Blaine set down the phone on the coffee table—which was clear of everything except two remotes and Kurt's NYADA letter—and sat at the end of the couch, pulling Kurt's feet into his lap.

"Hey, there."

"Hi."

"Do you have homework to get done?"

"No. I can stay. I want to stay." He sat up and curled in on himself, knees against his chest. "Do you wanna talk about…whatever?"

Blaine was cleaner than he had been an hour ago. His hair was wet, his dirty, oversized clothes replaced with a fitted cotton shirt and pajama pants, and he looked significantly more alive. But he still wasn't smiling. And his eyes were still angry, his body language still tense and guarded. Kurt could feel Blaine building walls up again. He didn't want that.

Leaning forward onto his knees, Kurt took Blaine's face in his hands and kissed him gently. Once. Twice. Down to his jaw and then over his throat, back and forth until he got up to Blaine's ear, then to his temple, his forehead, his nose, and his lips again. "I love you," he whispered. "Whatever's wrong, we can fix it. Just talk to me."

Blaine gazed up at him with wide eyes, his mouth set in a line of worry. "I sent my mom an email a few months ago," he started. "And when she didn't respond I assumed she didn't care. So I just…let it go. I don't really have a good relationship with my parents. They're both Christian conservatives—they go to church every Sunday and make sure they keep up appearances. And when I came out to them, they weren't very…understanding. They cared too much about what people would think.

"So they asked me to keep it to myself. We never talked about it. Ever. They never knew that I dated guys, never assumed I was lying when I said I was going out with friends. They tried to set me up on dates with girls and convince me to stop the nonsense." He took a deep breath. "They told me I was sick. And that it was a phase I'd grow out of."

"Oh, _Blaine_—"

"They live in Westerville," Blaine continued. He was staring fixedly at Kurt's chest. He couldn't meet Kurt's eyes. Not yet. "But we don't talk a lot. We see each other on Christmas when my brother and his girlfriend come for a visit. He's a lawyer. Successful, handsome, smart. His girlfriend is gorgeous and sweet—they're actually engaged now. I… I found out today. The email I sent—I told my mom that I was moving to New York over the summer and I probably wasn't going to see them before I left. Cooper, my brother, lives in Philadelphia. I called him up to tell him—he's excited for us. He wants to meet you."

Kurt smiled softly, rubbing his thumb over Blaine's cheek. "I'd love that."

"My mom told my dad about me moving, my dad asked Cooper, and Cooper didn't know—it wasn't his fault…"

"…Blaine?"

His eyes were closed tight. His hands came forward and fisted in Kurt's shirt and when he opened his mouth again, he made a pained noise.

"Hey, it's okay; it's okay." Kurt kissed all over his face again, kissed him until he started crying a little and then shifted them so that they were lying down together, both on their sides, Blaine crying into his shirt. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

"I told Cooper that I was moving to be with you," he said weakly. "I told him about you and how much I love you and how we were going to be together for as long as you would have me. I told him that you were the one for me and he was so happy for me, Kurt. He doesn't care that you're only eighteen, he doesn't care about anything except that I'm happy but he didn't know that Mom and Dad didn't know and so he told them."

Kurt gasped involuntarily. A small intake of breath that made Blaine snuggle in closer.

"My dad called me today during lunch. He berated me for a million things—for being with you, for still being gay, for wanting to leave with you. He told me about how Cooper proposed and said I wasn't his son anymore."

"_Blaine_, I—"

"But I don't care. I can't care. I'm going with you and that's final."

"But, Blaine—"

"Please, Kurt. Just hold me, okay?"

Sighing, Kurt tightened the arm he had around Blaine's waist. "I love you, you know," he whispered into Blaine's curls. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm never letting you go. I… Can I sing to you?"

He nodded. "Please."

Hearing Kurt sing _Perfect _was like a paddle to the heart. It revived him, restored him, and he wasn't just suddenly complete again but he knew he was going to get there. Because he was surrounded by people that loved him. He didn't need those who didn't.

-0-

Blaine eventually found out about Kurt's finalist letter. Kurt eventually met Cooper.

Blaine was at Kurt's house when he got his acceptance letter. They celebrated for hours.

They flew to New York a week earlier than Rachel over the summer to settle into the little apartment they'd bought. Blaine got a job at a private high school. Teaching French.

Rachel took up their guest room—it was only fair—and was the perfect roommate. Most of the time.

Kurt graduated from NYADA and immediately got a part in a show off Broadway. Rachel was in the show with him. Blaine was there on opening night.

Rachel eventually moved out.

They bought a cat. And a piano.

Seven years to the day after Kurt met Blaine in that small McKinley High classroom, he got down on one knee in the middle of Times Square and asked Blaine to marry him.

Blaine said yes.

Five months later, Kurt walked into Blaine's classroom after school and found roses, candles, and a little velvet box on the big, wooden desk.

They got married the year after that.

Their rings matched.

Eventually, they had kids. They moved into a bigger apartment, had brunch dates with Rachel and her husband, met up with other teachers and friends from Broadway on weekends, and they were happy—happier than either of them thought they could ever be.

Against all odds, they were together. They had each other. And they were going to stay that way. No matter what.

**A/N: New info on new stories coming soon! Again, thank you all so much! I cannot express how grateful I am for all of the alerts and reviews. You guys rock my world.**

**Love,**

**E. M. Zeray**


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